


You Fit Me Better Than My Favorite Sweater (I Will Love You 'Til the End of Time)

by 1Diamondinthesun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 90s references, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Bottom Harry, Bullying, But mostly fluff, Disney Movies, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Photographer Harry, SO MUCH FLUFF, Top Louis, boybands, for now anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Diamondinthesun/pseuds/1Diamondinthesun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first person Harry sees through the viewfinder of a camera is Louis Tomlinson.</p><p>Snapshots from a decade of Harry and Louis’ life as told through a collection of cameras, milestones and 90s references.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [louisttoplinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisttoplinson/gifts).



> Thank you so much to my incredible betas, without whom this fic would never have succeeded: Jen (bitter-sweet-peach), Maddie (her-blue-insanity), Ivette (ivettesjournal), and Jay (mywayhometoyou). I love you guys! xx Check them out on tumblr :)
> 
> PLEASE DO NOT POST THIS STORY ON OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. OR AT ALL. Posting someone else's work without their knowledge and/or permission is plagiarism, and that's not cool. If you like a fic, reblog the link on tumblr. Don't steal it. I have too much free time on my hands, and I will find you.
> 
> Title from Lana Del Rey's "Blue Jeans"
> 
> Trigger warning for homophobic language and bullying

Prologue: 2014, London 6:15 a.m.

Harry stumbled blearily through the flat, tripping a little on the woven rugs in the kitchen. He yawned and blinked slowly as he grabbed a banana from the kitchen island. Outside the neighborhood was quiet like a held breath, silent except for the birds chirping in the garden. Harry swiped the rolls of film off the top of the refrigerator where they rested safely out of the grasp of a clever two-year-old and padded into the small studio off the kitchen.

Before closing the door, Harry flipped the switch that lit up a small red light inside and a yellow one on the other side. He set his iPhone on the speaker dock and clicked through his playlist until the soft sounds of The xx filtered through the room. Then he set about preparing the water for the film wash.

At a glance, Harry Styles didn’t seem like the kind of person to enjoy being holed up in a darkroom alone for hours on end. At school he was always the kid with a crowd around him, basking in his bright smile and lovely curls. Harry loved people, companionship. He loved having his friends around him, loved getting hugs and being petted and occasionally teased. God knows he deserved it for how clumsy he was and how awkward he sounded bursting out laughing at a joke. Well, usually Louis’ jokes, but everyone laughed at Louis’ jokes. They’re making fun of his skinny jeans and flannel hobo shirts now as opposed to cargo pants and preppy Polos, but he likes to think it’s still out of love.

Anyway.

Being in the darkroom provided Harry with something he didn’t feel in a crowd of friends laughing or at parties, nor when he was taking the actual photos; when Harry took pictures, he was constantly in motion, both mind and body. Not even snuggled up with Louis on the couch on Thursday night movie nights in their pajamas, soft and drowsy, although that was the closest thing he’s found. Harry was really grateful for all his friends that loved him and accepted him for who he was, and words couldn’t describe how much he loved Louis, but the darkroom was different. Standing in the faint red light over a tray of developer, iPod playing softly in the background, watching a photo bloom to life before his eyes, brought him something special, magic even: peace. A peace and quiet that calmed his racing thoughts and settled his awkward limbs into a gracefulness he’s never achieved in the light of day.

Harry couldn’t explain it, because he’s never been that eloquent, and besides, people got tired waiting for him to collect his thoughts and tell a story. He’s never been good with words or witty like other people, but Louis always had enough wit for the both of them. There was just something about being in a darkroom, performing the tasks that transformed an ordinary spool of film into crisp, glossy photos that grounded Harry like none other. From taking a photo of a moment, to developing the negatives, to framing the finished product, Harry felt at home, inspired.

His work was good, if he did say so himself, but that’s not why he did it. He didn’t need the money. And it was becoming increasingly harder to make time for his art since he’d taken on more work and family responsibilities. But before there was the quiet little studio in Soho, there was a makeshift darkroom in that terrible apartment complex, and before that a school photography lab, and before that, a thrift store Polaroid, and before that, there was a boy drying Harry’s tears and holding out his mother’s Nikon at a birthday party.

So Harry spent stolen moments and the early morning hours when the flat was still quiet and the world asleep bent over a condenser enlarger examining negatives. After a day of work and chasing Evie and chopping vegetables, he fired stream after stream of light onto a tiny square image, in skilled intervals, until the exposure was just right. Sometimes he worked in silence, without his “precious depressing indie hipster nonsense,” as Louis called it, baby monitor placed beside him if Evie had been fussy that night. He’d stumble out into the kitchen when the sun was finally creeping in through the windows smelling of film developer in time to put the tea on and dress Evelyn for the day. And if he spent the rest of the day with a backache and bleary eyes, it was worth it.

Because if there’s one thing Harry loved more than photography, it was Louis, and the two have been inextricably linked since the beginning.  

*****

1990: Nikon F601s

Mid-August

 

Harry Styles loved school. He was in grade 1 and tied his own shoes and sat on a blue carpet square during film time. He loved films. They had movie night at home every week, and this week mum had promised to bring _All Dogs Go to Heaven_ , because Gemma loved it. Harry thought that sounded nice—dogs going to Heaven when they died, just like his cat Dusty had died when he was five. Did dogs become angels? Did they fly? He could ask Gemma but she’d just tell him to wait and see.

Harry was thinking about these things on their way to the lunchroom that day and he was skipping even though Ms. Coltharp asked them to walk. He was excited about the film though, and seeing if the dogs could fly. He had turned to ask his friend Amy if she had seen it, paper sack lunch clutched carefully to his chest, when he tripped and fell.

Amy didn’t laugh at him, though, and stopped to help until Ms. Coltharp told her to keep walking, (“No dawdling,”) and she apologetically skipped ahead, ponytail bouncing, to join her classmates. And Harry was alone. Then Aiden came.

Aiden was in grade 2, a year ahead of Harry, and liked to make fun of the smaller kids. Aiden kicked Harry’s now-crumpled homemade lunch aside and started pretend-crying. Harry looked around desperately for Ms. Coltharp, just in time to see her wiry grey curls slip through the lunchroom door.

“Oh, going to cry, little baby?” Aiden asked in a baby voice. Harry bit his lip and hoped Aiden would leave before he actually did. He looked at his torn khakis where his knee was hurt. He could see a little blood.

“N-no,” Harry said thickly, voice trembling.

“Does baby need his mummy?” Aiden taunted, sticking out his lower lip in a pout. When Harry didn’t reply, Aiden laughed again and stepped on Harry’s lunch, muttering “baby” before jogging ahead to the door.

Harry was not going to cry, no matter what Aiden said; he was a big boy. Aiden was just…Aiden was _stupid_ , Harry thought with a miserable sniffle. Thinking the bad word didn’t make him feel any better though. His mum would be disappointed. Mum. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes from wanting her.

Just then Harry saw a group of boys traipsing down the sidewalk—more grade 2s. Harry panicked and tried to get to his feet, but his knee hurt and he suddenly realized his palm was scraped, too. He was stuck. He made himself as small as possible at the edge of the sidewalk as they approached, hoping to avoid another Aiden.

The boys, three of them altogether, stared at Harry curiously as they passed. The boy with dark hair who was talking elbowed the tallest boy beside him and laughed under his breath. The third boy, who was the shortest, stared a beat longer with wide blue eyes before he passed by. Harry let out a sigh of relief when the three made it to the lunchroom door. He swallowed the lump in his throat, wishing he was at home curled up with his mum on the couch. She would snuggle him close, wrap him up in the blue blanket just like on movie night. But all of a sudden, he heard the thump of little feet running towards him. Harry looked up to see the smallest boy, alone now, jogging down the sidewalk, his sandy brown hair lifted by the breeze.

He stopped in front of Harry, who closed his eyes tight and winced in fear. But nothing happened. After a moment, Harry cracked one curious green eye open to see the boy watching him.

“Did someone knock you down?” he asked with narrowed eyes. Harry gulped, afraid.

“No,” Harry whispered, looking down at his torn trousers. The boy hmmed softly.

“Well, are you going to get up?” He watched Harry pick at the frayed hole in his trousers.

Harry bit his lip and blinked back tears. He felt like a baby sitting there on the ground—just like Aiden said.

“I c-can’t,” Harry said. His breath came faster and his cheeks got redder the more he tried to hold back the tears.

The boy looked over his shoulder toward the door once, and then dropped to his knees in front of Harry. Harry automatically flinched back with a soft gasp. The boy’s eyes settled on the torn trousers, scraped knee, and Harry’s smushed lunch a few feet away. Harry looked up through his fringe to see the boy narrow his eyes again, shake his head, and huff. He looked like Harry’s mum when Harry broke one of the house rules. Then the boy met Harry’s eyes, and his expression softened. He smiled tentatively, holding up his hands in surrender.

“’M not going to hurt you,” he said, carefully edging closer. His voice was soft and husky, like someone who talked loudly and wasn’t used to inside voices. His eyes were very blue and kind. Harry’s nan always said you could tell a person by his eyes. She trained horses at his grandfather’s farm, and sometimes if Harry was very good, she let him brush the horses after their trot. Nan would feed the horses apples as she explained that horses could tell if you were good or bad from your eyes. Horses knew if you meant them harm. Nan was very smart— _wise_ , his mum said, and he guessed that meant super smart. He reckoned he could trust this boy’s eyes.

The boy carefully moved Harry’s hand off his knee and took a look. “Anything else hurt?” he asked. Harry held out his scraped hand wordlessly. _Don’t cry, don’t cry_ , he thought. The boy cupped Harry’s hurt hand in both of his, gently prodding the heel of his palm. The skin around the cut was red and swollen, and bleeding a little.

“Got a rock stuck in there, I think,” he said thoughtfully.

A _rock_. Harry’s bottom lip wobbled, and his eyes filled with tears. He didn’t know what he was going to do.

“I can get it out, if you want,” he continued, examining the scrape from different angles, unaware of Harry’s impending meltdown. “But you’ll have to go to the nurse for your knee.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out except a weird sob. The boy’s wide blue eyes snapped up toward his, and Harry stared back helplessly, wishing he could disappear.

“S-sorry,” he choked out, trying to draw his hand back and run away. The boy frowned and held onto his hand tightly.

“It’s ok to cry, you’re hurt,” he said stubbornly, refusing to let go. “I won’t tell anyone.”

At that, Harry dissolved into tears. He simply broke down, little shoulders shaking with each sob.

“What’s your name?” the boy asked worriedly.

“Harry E-Edward Styles,” he hiccupped pitifully.

“I’m Louis, hi,” the boy said cheerfully, to no avail. Harry continued to cry.

“C’mon, Harry, let’s go get you cleaned up.” Louis—what a great name—stood and picked up Harry’s ruined lunch. He reached for his hand, gingerly pulling Harry up. Louis did not let go all the way to the nurse’s station, where he refused to leave Harry’s side while he was tended to, or to the lunchroom, where he shared his own peanut butter and jelly sandwich and snuck Harry a chocolate milk when the lunch lady wasn’t looking. He only let go once he had seen Harry safely to the door of Ms. Coltharp’s classroom and kissed the Batman Band-Aid covered scrape on his hand better. Harry thanked Louis shyly, looking down at his shoes. Louis had light-up Skecher’s with neon green laces. Louis grinned and said goodbye before ducking out the door.

The kids at his table all stared at Harry expectantly as he sat down. Jesy poked his arm and whispered, “You know the new boy? What’s his name?”

“Um, Louis,” he replied shyly.

“I heard he punched Stanley Lucas in art, and Ms. Edwards sent him out to the hall,” Leigh-Anne said eagerly.

The rest of the table oohed.

“Why would she send him to the hall?” Harry asked confusedly.

“So he could _think about what he’d done_ ,” Jesy answered, eyes wide with awe.

“You’re friends with him?!” Leigh-Anne said, turning to Harry cautiously. Three sets of eyes appraised him at the table.

“Um…”

Harry thought back to the events of the day. Louis leaving his friends to take care of Harry. Not making fun of him when he cried, even holding his hand when the nurse pulled out the pebble in his hurt hand with scary, sharp tweezers. Calling Aiden a butthole when Harry confessed what happened on his way to lunch. Walking him back to class. Louis may be the kind of kid to punch a bully like Stanley, but he was also the kind to hug Harry when he cried for his mum.

“Yes,” Harry said, looking down at the table. Then: “Yes, he is,” more firmly, bravely meeting everyone’s eyes. After a beat, the kids all shrugged and crowded around Harry to see his injuries, and soon everything was back to normal. Ms. Coltharp taught them about the planets and they sat on the carpet squares to watch The Magic School Bus, and Harry didn’t cry any more.

At the end of the day, when everyone was gathering up their book bags and jackets, Harry walked out the door to find Louis standing on the sidewalk, backpack slung over one little shoulder and shirt untucked. Now that he wasn’t in pain, Harry realized he was almost as tall as Louis. Louis smiled uncertainly and said hi. Harry beamed and returned the greeting, rocking excitedly on his heels.

“Want to walk out with me?” Louis asked, gesturing to the double doors leading out to the line of cars. Harry was nodding eagerly before he finished the sentence. Louis grinned and reached for Harry’s good hand, and led him out to the waiting cars. And that was that.

Ever since that day, Harry and Louis had been friends. They ate lunch together, with Louis’ friends Liam and Zayn, the boys from that day on the sidewalk, and Harry’s friends Jesy and Leigh Anne. Some of the other kids at school might have thought it was weird for Louis to hang out with kids from grade 1, but Louis didn’t give “two f-u-c-k-s” what anybody thought. And it wasn’t long before everyone knew that if you messed with Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson would beat you up.

*****

September

 

The first and last time someone hit Harry at school, Louis was gone for a dentist appointment. His mum had led him kicking and screaming from the school lobby where Harry was stood waiting with him, refusing to leave Harry behind. Harry had cried a little when Louis climbed into his mum’s van, already missing his best friend terribly. But Liam shared his Pringles at lunch and Zayn drew him a picture of a cool skateboard man in art. (Harry loved skateboards but they were for big kids, according to his mum, even though Louis got to ride one once.) At the end of the day, Harry stood outside the school waiting for his mum, alone for the first time since meeting Louis. He was gathering dandelions to make Louis a necklace for being brave when some grade 3s came over.

“What are you doing, loser?” a skinny boy with sharp eyes and a rat-tail haircut asked. Harry thought his name was Bryce. His friends elbowed each other in amusement as they crowded around Harry.

“Um.” Harry clutched the flowers in his fists protectively to his chest.

“Why are you picking flowers? That’s for girls,” Bryce accused.

Harry looked around nervously for his mum’s blue sedan, but the long line of cars stretched on forever with no end in sight.

“He asked you a question,” a second boy with chubby, flushed cheeks said. He shoved Harry’s shoulder, but Harry couldn’t form words he was so scared.

“Are you retarded?” Bryce demanded, cocking his head to the side. “You look retarded.”

Harry’s face flushed in shame, because he was only picking flowers, and he wasn’t retarded, although Gemma said he was. If only Louis was here, he could explain that Harry was just shy.

The boy that had been circling around behind him pushed Harry hard, causing him to stumble into Bryce. Dread filled the pit of Harry’s stomach when he realized what he’d just done. Bryce narrowed his eyes and taunted,

“Oh, you gonna fight back, huh? Let’s go, then.”

Harry shrunk away in fear, only for the boy’s friend to shove him forward again. That’s when the other boy, standing off to the side, hit Harry, knocking Harry’s backpack off his shoulder and punching him in the stomach, hard. The boys all laughed, and Harry crumpled to the ground in pain, wind knocked out of him.

“Stupid fag,” Bryce snarled, and then they walked away. Leaving Harry, six years old, alone on the grass, gasping and sobbing with a handful of ruined yellow dandelions crushed in his fist.

*

Later, when Harry was settled and only sniffling on the couch with a glass of milk, his mum pulled him into her lap for a talk. Harry loved talking to his mum—she was beautiful and never yelled and listened carefully when he spoke. Anne looked deeply into Harry’s eyes and asked him what happened at school.

Harry explained everything with a trembling bottom lip and rushed breaths—why he was picking the flowers for Louis, and what the boys said, and how that boy punched him, and his mum listened patiently. He hesitated when he got to the part about Bryce calling him That Name, because he was afraid it meant he’d done something bad. He whispered the words timidly.

“What, darling? He called you a what?” Anne asked curiously, cupping Harry’s chin. He met her eyes nervously.

“Hecalledmeastupidfag,” Harry mumbled, eyes downcast. His mum gasped, and then silence filled the lounge.

Harry didn’t know what kind of punishment to expect, so when he felt his mum’s arms tighten around him, he was surprised. But he loved hugs. “Oh, sweetheart,” Mum sighed and cradled him to her chest, stroking her fingers gently through his hair. As if reading his mind, she murmured, “You’re not in trouble, love. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Harry nodded mutely against her chest. Silence filled the room while Harry let out a sigh of relief. After a moment, Anne pulled back, a sharp look in her eye.

“Harry,” she stated eerily calmly. “What was the boy’s name that said that to you?”

Harry’s eyes widened in panic and quickly looked away. He might have cried when Bryce’s friend hit him, but he wasn’t a tattletale. Harry squirmed hesitantly on his mum’s lap but refused to speak.

“Hmm,” Anne said pensively. And then: “Harry, you know you’re not in trouble. I’m not upset with you, understand? You’ve done nothing wrong. You know you can talk to me about anything, and I’ll listen, right?”

Harry nodded frantically, burying his face in his mum’s perfumed blouse. Anne sighed and hugged her son.

“Now, weren’t you in the middle of making Louis a present when all this happened?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry sniffled.

“Why don’t you go to the back garden and see if any of our flowers will do? I believe there’s some big, fat dandelions out there by the fence--” Anne offered, raising her eyebrows excitedly.

Harry was out the door with a big smile on his face before she finished her sentence, curls bouncing as he went. Anne watched through the kitchen door as Harry began scouring the garden for flowers. She wiped the sudden tears from her cheeks with a huff and stalked over to the telephone. When the other line picked up, Anne cleared her throat and tried not to let her voice break as she spoke.

“Johannah? Hi, love. Would Louis happen to be back from his appointment yet?”

 ** ***  
** ** Eleven minutes later, the sound of the front door bursting open startled Anne from where she was stood by the window watching Harry twist dandelions together in the garden, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration. A sharp “Louis William Tomlinson!” echoed behind the sound of little feet running towards her. Anne turned to see little Louis stalking forward, face set in grim determination. He was wearing an elephant sticker that read “I was brave!” and a frown far advanced for his six-and-a-half years. Louis came to an abrupt stop in front of her.

“Where’s Harry?” he demanded.

“LOUIS!” Johannah yelled exasperatedly as she caught up to her son, huffing slightly with a five-month-pregnant belly.

Louis turned on his heel and fired back, “He was hurt, Mum!”

“Manners,” she warned, nodding towards Anne.

Louis huffed impatiently and returned his attention to an amused Anne, blue eyes worried. “Where’s Harry, please?”

Anne bit back a grin at the eager child and told him Harry was in the garden.

“Thank you!” he yelled, already out the kitchen door. Anne shared a wry smile with Johannah as they watched Louis stride purposefully toward Harry.

Louis hugged Harry fiercely. Harry clutched at his back, a straggly chain of yellow flowers hanging from one hand. They couldn’t hear what the boys were saying, but watched Louis assess Harry’s injuries when he pulled back.

Harry bit his lip and looked down at his feet as Louis spoke. He nodded sheepishly and lifted the front of his shirt to reveal the angry red fist mark on his ribs. Johannah gasped next to Anne, clapping a hand over her mouth. She moved perhaps as if to run outside. Anne placed a gentle hand on her arm and gestured for her to wait.

As they watched, Louis tentatively touched the wound and must have asked if it hurt. Harry’s bottom lip wobbled when he nodded, but he didn’t cry. Louis carefully let his shirt back down and wordlessly pulled something off his own shirt and pressed it to Harry’s. Harry’s smile split his face and he was recovered enough to proudly hold up the unfinished gift in his hand. Anne and Johannah watched as Louis took Harry’s hand and sat him down in the grass. Together, they started weaving the flowers, Harry grinning happily and a calmer, sweet smile gracing Louis’ face.

Anne wiped discreetly at her eyes. “Tea?” she asked, voice wavering.

“Please,” Johannah answered faintly beside her, watching the boys laugh and talk from the garden. And if, half an hour later, they were suspiciously teary-eyed when Louis and Harry stumbled in with matching flower crowns and an elephant sticker on Harry’s shirt instead of Louis’, well, who could blame them.

Also, if the next day Louis got detention and a note home to his mum saying he fought with Bryce James in the middle of the lunchroom, Johannah decided Louis’ soon-to-be black eye and bruised knuckles were punishment enough. She took in the watery smile on Harry’s face as he held an ice pack to Louis’ cheek while they sat whispering in time out together (at Harry’s insistence) and figured that taught Louis more about friendship and bravery than a lecture ever could.

*****

December

 

On Christmas Eve, Harry stared at the package on his Spider-Man-themed bed excitedly. He was supposed to be downstairs ages ago to leave for the party, but he couldn’t stop looking at it. He was going to get in trouble with his mum probably. It was just so pretty, though. Harry hoped Louis liked it; he wrapped it himself. The gift had blue paper with silver stars on it (NO red and green, just as Louis requested) and was topped with a pretty purple bow. It was the nicest one they had in their Christmas decorations box, and Harry thought it looked beautiful. Gemma had laughed and said that purple and blue don’t match, and they weren’t even Christmas colors.

“That’s the point,” Harry answered while carefully sticking the bow in the very middle, biting his lip in concentration.

Then Gemma stuck her tongue out at him and said it was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen, and Harry had burst into tears, making her laugh all the more. His mother had rocked him in her arms and assured him it was just lovely, smoothing back his unruly curls.

“He’s going to love it, sweetheart. You made it all by yourself and wrapped it without any help. It was made with love. That makes it special.”

But now looking at the gift, Harry wasn’t so sure. He bit his bottom lip nervously. What if Gemma was right? There was no time to rewrap it, Harry realized with a sinking feeling. Why didn’t he just put the present in a gift bag like the all other kids?

But this wasn’t just any present; it was for his Best Friend. Harry blinked back tears and reached for the gift. He was not going to cry; he was not a baby like Aiden said. So he sniffed bravely, picked up the gift and ran to the car.

*

Louis Tomlinson hated having his birthday fall on Christmas Eve. His parties always had Christmas music, the decorations were red and green, and his presents were combined. Most people either gave Louis a birthday gift or a Christmas gift—not both. And this year, it wasn’t even snowing.

He watched impatiently from the window as his mum tugged a comb through his hair. His guests would be arriving any minute for the birthday party. He itched a little in the navy blue jumper he was wearing because it was last year’s and a bit snug. But his mum had agreed he didn’t have to wear the jumper Aunt Margaret made him (reindeers, honestly) since she wouldn’t be coming to visit until tomorrow, and he’d chosen the blue one.

Liam was the first to arrive, in a red Santa jumper with neatly-pressed khakis, followed by Zayn in jeans and a black jumper. Louis showed them where to put their coats and gifts and led them through the house to where the games were set up.

Harry arrived, and his other friends from school, and by the time they’d had cake and played hide-and-seek (he finally found Harry, the last child to be caught, hiding in the cupboard under the sink), Louis was bouncing off the walls, as his mum always said. Because finally, _finally_ it was time for presents.

Louis excitedly began opening his presents, balanced on his knees on his chair. Zayn got him a Power Ranger action figure; Liam gave him a set of Matchbox cars (cool) and a math activity book (yuck); the other boys from Louis’ class gifted him action figures, Legos, the board game Sorry!, and Ninja Turtles temporary tattoos.

At the end of the table, standing on tiptoe to see over a tall boy named Ashton, Harry was having a crisis. All Louis’ presents were store-bought and so, so cool, and Harry prayed Louis would never see his. The pile continued to dwindle with a chorus of oohs and aahs and dread filled Harry’s stomach. Finally it was down to just his gift, in the pretty blue and purple paper, and another, which Louis grabbed curiously. Louis attacked the box, and the blur of flying Santa wrapping paper revealed a Batman Lego set, complete with Batmobile and a little Robin in the passenger seat.

Finally, Louis reached for the last gift, and some kids snickered at the wrapping. Louis read the tag and looked up at Harry, beaming. Harry blushed as Louis began to open it. All the kids crowded around curiously as Louis carefully lifted the gift out. Harry held his breath.

He watched as Louis examined the picture frame’s neat rows of Popsicle sticks lightly dusted in glitter glue. Harry had added a little football to the bottom corner, coloring it carefully with Magic Markers. The other kids whispered because it was homemade, and one boy snorted a laugh. Harry wanted to melt into a puddle in the floor. He chanced a look through his lashes at Louis, expecting to see disappointment. Harry’s gift was nothing like everybody else’s.

Louis slowly met his eyes and broke out into a big smile.

“You made this…for me?” Louis asked breathlessly, curling his delicate fingers around the frame.

Harry nodded timidly, aware of everyone’s curious eyes on him.

“All by yourself, love?” Johannah cut in with a bright smile. Harry’s wide green eyes met hers before whispering “yes,” and quickly looking at the floor.

The room was silent, the rest of the children waiting for Louis’ opinion.

Louis smiled happily, his real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I love it! Thank you, Harry!” he replied, seemingly oblivious to the other children’s stares. Relief flooded Harry, and he ducked his head smiling.

Then it was time to put on coats and hats and go home, and slowly the mums bundled their children up and said their goodbyes to the Tomlinsons. Anne stayed to clean up with Johannah, and Louis was allowed to open his Batman Lego set and other gifts to play with. His and Harry’s mum had settled down in the breakfast nook to have a cup of tea, and _A Christmas Story_ played on the telly. Meanwhile, Louis was trying to unwrap all the tape and packing from his Red Power Ranger action figure when he decided this was a job for Harry. He was good at untying knots and opening tricky things, while Louis simply didn’t have the patience. He looked around the lounge, expecting to see Harry, and realized he hadn’t talked to Harry since the party ended.

“Mum?” Louis called.

“Yes, dear?”

“Have you seen Harry?” he asked worriedly.

“Isn’t he with you, Louis?” she replied distractedly, giggling at something with Anne.

“No!” Louis looked around the room, and then out the window, where night was falling. It was cold outside, and Harry would be scared by himself…

“Ok…if you were Harry, where would you be hiding?” Louis muttered under his breath. His mum had suggested he try this old trick whenever he’d lost something. Usually it didn’t work.

Harry was not in the lounge. Not in the hall, Louis checked off his mental checklist, walking through the quiet house. He raced up the stairs to his room, expecting to see Harry sitting on his bed playing Louis’ Game Boy. But the room was empty. Now really worried, Louis checked all the rooms and then the bathroom upstairs. Nothing.

Where would Harry hide? Where would he go? Aha. A grin broke out over Louis’ face when he remembered Harry had found the best hiding place all day. He thundered back down the stairs and ran to the kitchen.

“Louis, wha—

‘Shh!” Louis cut Mum off, tiptoeing into the kitchen and pointing to the cupboard under the sink. Johannah and Anne grinned and zipped their lips theatrically. Louis snuck closer and stopped with his head against the cabinet door. He could hear the faint rustle of something moving inside, clattering against Mum’s pots and pans.

Louis knocked on the little door. He heard a quiet sniffle, then the cabinet door creaked slowly open an inch. Alarmed, red-rimmed eyes met Louis’ and then quickly darted back inside.

“Sorry, no one’s home,” Harry’s muffled voice called.

Louis giggled and knocked a silly pattern on the door.

“Hello? Haz?” he asked.

Harry didn’t answer.

“What are you doing in there?” Louis asked. He shot a confused look at his mum, who just shrugged and smiled. Louis turned back to the task at hand.

“Harryyyy,” he sang softly. “Hazza, Harold, Haz. Please come out.”

“No thank you,” Harry replied stubbornly.

Louis sighed. “Fine, then move over.”

“Huh?” Harry asked.

Louis opened the door and wordlessly began stacking pots and pans out on the linoleum floor.

“Louis—Harry protested.

“If you won’t come out, then I’m coming in,” Louis answered decisively as he tried to balance a stack of sauté pans on the pile.

“I think we’ll just go to the lounge to watch the film,” Johannah called, rolling her eyes fondly at the mess. “I believe Ralphie’s going to shoot his eye out this time.” Anne giggled and the two women left the kitchen.  

Finally, Louis had carved a path into the cupboard. He crawled inside, edging Harry over a little. Then he closed the door, filling the cupboard with darkness. There was silence for a moment, and Louis could hear Harry biting his nails.

Louis reached for his hand and held it in his lap. “No biting, Haz,” he said gently.

“S-sorry,” Harry mumbled, sniffling. Another moment of silence, and then:

“Wanna tell me why you’re in my Mum’s cupboard, Harry?”

Harry took a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

“I, um. Was sad,” Harry whispered.

Louis frowned. “Why? Didn’t you like my party?”

Harry whipped around and grabbed Louis’ hand in both of his in the darkness.

“Of course I did! It was so cool!” Harry exclaimed. He fidgeted with Louis’ fingers nervously.

“What’s wrong then?” Louis frowned, turning to face Harry. Not that it helped; he couldn’t see a thing.

He felt Harry’s knees brush against his as he mirrored Louis’ pose. “’S my present,” he said sadly.

“What?” Louis asked, puzzled. He heard Harry’s breath hitch on an inhale.

“My present, um. It wasn’t cool like the ones bought from the shops.”

“Says who?” Louis gaped, incredulous.

“Some kids. I heard them talking after the party. They said I was a baby and it was dumb,” Harry sniffled miserably. “Because I just made it.”

Louis frowned in the darkness, realization washing over him. The way Harry acted so shy when they were talking about his gift. How he disappeared after the party. How long had he been in this cupboard? Beside him, Harry was flicking the pad of his thumb over Louis’ blunt fingernails agitatedly, making a _wick wick wick_ sound, probably two seconds away from biting his nails again.

Louis laced his fingers through Harry’s and rubbed his thumb over the back of the boys’ hand, calming his fidgeting.

“That’s rubbish,” Louis assured him. “They just had their mums buy gifts. You actually made me something.”

Louis felt a tear drip down onto their linked hands and scooted closer to Harry.

“Hey,” he cooed softly. “It’s brilliant, Harry. No one’s ever made me anything before.”

“Really?” Harry sniffed. Louis nodded.

“Yeah. And it’s _so_ good—you did all those sticks perfectly straight,” Louis added, squeezing Harry’s hand in reassurance.

“Thanks,” Harry whispered shyly.

“And even if it wasn’t perfect, I’d still like it,” Louis vowed fiercely.

“Yeah?” He could just picture Harry’s frown as he spoke.

“Duh. You’re my best friend,” Louis whispered shyly, nudging Harry’s arm.

“Really?” Harry whispered back.

“Course. Am I yours?”

“Of course!” Harry giggled, launching himself into Louis’ arms. Louis got a faceful of curls as he crashed backwards into Mum’s mixing bowls. The boys giggled at the sound.

“Oops,” Harry snickered into Louis’ neck.

“Hi!” Louis laughed. “Just knock me down, why don’t you.” But he was laughing as he spoke. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s skinny back and hugged him tight before sitting them both up.

“Ok. Now there’s just one thing missing from my present,” Louis said in mock-seriousness as he tickled Harry’s sides.

“What?” Harry said breathlessly, squirming away from Louis’ tickling fingers.

“I’ll show you. Stay here.”

Louis carefully disentangled himself from Harry and climbed out of the cupboard, squinting in the sudden brightness. He ran to the lounge and stage-whispered, “Mum!”

Johannah and Anne turned to face Louis.

“Can I borrow the camera?” He whispered, dancing excitedly on his tiptoes.

“Okay—but use—

“Both hands, I know!” Louis replied, already running back to the kitchen. He picked up Mum’s camera, a big black thing that said N-I-K-O-N in shiny letters. Louis carried it carefully with both hands and knelt in front of Harry’s cabinet. He knocked and waited.

Harry peeked out, green eyes still a little puffy but curious as he looked at Louis. His eyes widened when he saw what Louis was holding.

Louis grinned. “It needs a picture.”

Harry smiled in awe. He crawled out of the cupboard and sprawled clumsily on the floor before righting himself.

“Here,” Louis said, “hold it. Both hands!” Harry took the camera in his little hands reverently. Louis pulled the sleeve of his jumper over his hand and gingerly wiped the tear tracks from Harry’s face. He lifted Harry’s chin and waited for Harry to reluctantly tear his eyes away from the camera.

“Better?” Louis asked.

Harry grinned until a dimple showed in his left cheek. Louis thought it was amazing.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, eyes sparkling.

“Good,” Louis said, leaning close and giving Harry a silly eskimo kiss. Harry giggled.

“What are we going to take a picture of?” he gasped, dodging Louis as the boy nosed along the soft curls by Harry’s ears. Louis sat back on his heels and pursed his lips in thought.

“We’ll think of something,” Louis shrugged. “Here, do you know how to use it?”

Harry shook his head.

“Like this,” Louis explained, moving behind Harry and hooking his chin over the boy’s shoulder. He reached his hands around Harry and coaxed him to turn the camera around. Harry settled back into Louis contentedly as Louis showed him where the shutter button was located. Harry nodded thoughtfully and held the viewfinder up to his eye, aiming it at the refrigerator for practice.

“See the little x in the center?” Louis asked. Harry nodded. “Keep that in the middle.”

Harry bit his lip in concentration and then turned slowly in Louis’ arms. He felt a bit woozy seeing the world spin through the camera. Harry faced Louis and lined up the shot. Louis’ eyes widened in realization, but it was too late.

 _Click_.

The flash went off, and Louis saw spots where Harry’s face should be. Harry, the little sneak was laughing.

“Harry!” Louis exclaimed. He blinked rapidly until his vision returned, then pulled the camera out of Harry’s grasp.

“Look, if we’re gonna take one, let’s do one of us both.”

“How?” Harry frowned, tilting his head curiously.

“Hmm,” Louis mused. Then he smiled and spun Harry back around, carefully turning the camera around backwards. “Like this.”

Louis raised the camera so the front was facing them and deftly lined his finger up over the shutter. He pressed his cheek to Harry’s.

“Smile!” he sang, and he felt rather than saw Harry’s cheeks lift into a smile. Louis clicked the shutter, and this time they both saw stars.

Three days later, Johannah took the film to the photo shop to be developed, and a few days after that, Louis put the (slightly blurry) photo of him and Harry in the frame Harry made him. It hung on his wall for years. In grade 4, it held a photo of Harry wrapping a red scarf around a snowman’s neck the winter it snowed so much. In grade 6, it held one of Harry and Louis at Louis’ football tournament game; Louis was grinning and holding a first place trophy while Harry wore a shirt that read “Go Louis!” The summer before grade 7, the frame held a picture of the two boys at the sea, arms around each other as they stood ankle-deep in the surf. That had been the best summer of their lives, Louis thought fondly for several years afterwards.

Over the years, more photos appeared on Louis’ wall. Harry’s walls were covered as well. Posters of Power Rangers and _Star Wars_ and _The Lion King_ (Harry was weird) came and went, but the photos they took remained. Louis hated to clean his room at any age, was a veritable slob, but one thing he always did was painstakingly re-stick any photos that fell off over time or due to humidity or cold. Johannah would occasionally pass by Louis’ room and see him carefully apply more tape to the backs of the photos before smoothing them over the wall, a rare serene smile on his face. She called it his Harry smile. As things changed, the photos were re-taped and that smile remained the same.

*****

June 1995: Polaroid SuperColor 1000

 

Harry pored over a Christmas catalogue on one end of his couch while Louis lay at the other, flipping channels on the telly. Christmas was still several months away, but Harry wanted something special this year. He chewed the end of his pencil as he read the descriptions of all the different cameras available. SLR. ISO. Aperture speed. He didn’t know what most of these thing meant, but he would learn. Harry carefully circled a Canon 35 mm SLR camera with his pencil trying to ignore the guilt at the price. Mum couldn’t afford it, but the store offered a layaway program that Harry could use to pay on the camera over an entire year. He was saving up his allowance and offering to cut the grass for his neighbors to chip in.

When Anne came home from grocery shopping a few minutes later, the boys helped unload the car and prepare dinner. Harry dog-eared the page in his catalogue and laid it on the coffee table, meaning to show it to his mum later.

Louis saw it first. He was only going to look and see what the big deal was about that magazine that Harry had been reading all night; he wasn’t snooping. So when the book fell open to the spot Harry had marked with his chewed-up pencil (eww), the corner of the page folded over, he was surprised.

Where was Harry going to get $700.00? Jesus.

Louis took in the brand-new camera, its round lens and trademark Canon logo, the set of different lenses and filters arranged next to it, and knew Anne couldn’t afford it. He figured this is what Harry had been saving for all summer, never making a peep about what he wanted the money for. He bet Harry hadn’t even told Anne he wanted this camera. Louis wished he could buy it for him, but even if they pooled all their savings, emptied their bank accounts, and sold Louis’ silver fillings, they couldn’t afford it.

Louis noticed that all the cameras on that page were expensive. What was Harry going to do? Louis wistfully closed the catalogue and joined Harry in the kitchen where he was helping Anne chop vegetables. He didn’t have the heart to mention he’d seen the catalogue, and Harry never brought it up.

*

Summertime was the best time, Louis mused a week later, letting the sun warm his face. He lay stretched in the grass of Harry’s garden, head propped on his linked hands as he listened to the soft murmur of voices drifting out through the open windows. It was the beginning of July, and Louis had two weeks free before he went to football camp.

Louis and his mum, plus his sisters Lottie and Fizzy had gone over to Harry’s house for movie night. Inside, Mum and Anne were fussing over spaghetti or something while the girls watched _The Little Mermaid_. Which, ugh. No thanks. Louis already put up with a houseful of girls on a daily basis; he didn’t want to spend his time listening to them squeal on screen. Louis closed his eyes contentedly as a soft breeze blew through the garden and the late-afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves on the old oak behind him. Harry was supposed to be getting drinks inside, but that was over 10 minutes ago. Louis had a feeling he knew exactly what Harry was doing.

Louis sighed. He was really thirsty, but also really comfortable. He skimmed his bare toes over the grass, letting it tickle his skin. He craned his neck to look over his shoulder at the kitchen windows for any sign of Harry. Nothing. He let his head thump back down and groaned.

The warm sunlight and peaceful afternoon made Louis’ usually-graceful limbs sluggish as he rolled up into a sitting position and struggled to his feet. Is this what it felt like to be Harry all the time, he wondered. Louis sighed sleepily as he dusted off his trackies and ambled back to the house. He shook his fringe out of his eyes as he opened the door and greeted his mum(s). Because honestly, at this point in his life, Anne was practically his unofficial mum. Anne turned from where she was stirring a pot of boiling pasta and nodded in the direction of the lounge with a mischievous grin.

Louis shook his head in fond exasperation and they shared a smile as he passed through the kitchen to find Harry. He was going to smack Harry upside the head, because Harry had simple instructions: sneak sodas out of the refrigerator. Carry them to the garden. Enjoy said sodas in peace, away from the girl-fest that was currently Harry’s house.

Louis stopped short in the doorway to the lounge at the sight of three heads, two blonde and one curly and dark, lined up on the couch. Sure enough, there was Harry. Watching _The Little Mermaid_. Louis sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day and couldn’t help but grin. Quietly, he padded closer to the couch to get a better look. As Louis neared the unsuspecting viewers, he could see Harry watching wide-eyed. He was absently picking at his lip with his gangly knees bent up under his chin. In front of him on the coffee table sat two forgotten Cokes, steadily dripping condensation. Louis stood there for several moments before he realized Harry was not going to snap out of his Disney-induced trance anytime soon.

Louis crossed his arms and cleared his throat sternly. The blond heads belonging to Lottie and Fizzy barely turned before facing back towards the screen, but Harry’s head whipped around in alarm. He scrambled up into an alert position, eyes wide and panicked.

 _Busted_ , Louis thought evilly. Harry attempted to smile, but it came across as a nervous grimace.

“Lou!” he exclaimed. “Hi.” The two girls turned sharply to shush him.

Louis just raised his eyebrows and nodded to the sodas on the table questioningly. Harry bit his bottom lip, a frown creasing his brow.

“I, uh,” Harry laughed nervously. Lottie shot him a death glare, and Harry shrank back and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I forgot the drinks. I’m sorry.”

Louis shook his head wordlessly, fixing Harry with a solemn frown. Harry was still biting back a grin as he reached for the drinks and extended one to Louis.

“Movie?” Harry whispered, edging over closer to Lottie to make room. Louis huffed and refused to give in.

Harry smiled hopefully. “Please, Lou? C’mere. Just for a minute!”

Louis buried his head in his hands and groaned.

“Pleeaasseee,” Harry whispered, biting his lip. He clasped his hands under his chin and looked up at Louis through his lashes. “I know you love this movie.”

“I absolutely do not,” Louis retorted.

Lottie elbowed Harry hard and turned the volume up on the telly in warning.

Harry continued to give Louis cow eyes, and finally Louis caved. He squeezed in next to Harry on the couch reluctantly to a whispered “Yay!”

Wedged in the corner of the sofa, Louis turned slightly and braced his arm along the back. He thumped Harry in the back of the head, and Harry made a surprised oof sound. Louis turned to face the screen with a smirk. Harry popped the top on Louis’ Coke and handed it to him, and Louis’ lips twitched into a smile before he smoothed his expression back into boredom. Louis could’ve sworn he heard a snort from the kitchen. Undeterred, Harry edged closer and folded back up into his previous position.

On the screen, Ariel was darting around on the ocean floor, trying to dodge the giant witch’s attack. Prince what’s-his-name was no help.

“Harry,” Louis whispered curiously.

“Yeah?” Harry replied, never turning his head from the screen.

“If the witch could grow so huge, why didn’t she just kill the king in the beginning?”

Beside him, Harry’s nose wrinkled in thought, and then he shook his head dismissively.

“Then it wouldn’t be about Ariel,” Harry shrugged, sparing Louis a thoughtful glance before turning back to the screen. “And she needed his trident to get big.”

Louis sighed. “Why does it have to be about her?” he grumbled. “All she does is complain.”

Harry turned to Louis incredulously, jaw dropped as if Louis had just insulted his mother instead of a fictional character.

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis backpedaled at Harry’s look of betrayal. Harry frowned like a disgruntled kitten and turned back to the screen.

“Shh,” Harry whispered distractedly. “Just watch.” And how, HOW did Louis always end up in these situations? Louis grumbled and stretched his legs across Harry’s petulantly, forcing the boy put his feet on the floor to make room. Harry just got more comfortable and leaned his head back against Louis’ arm. Sometimes Louis thought Harry would genuinely like to be petted like a cat. He had already lost interest in what was happening onscreen, so he decided to test that theory. Louis patted Harry’s soft curls experimentally. Harry didn't move.

Louis stroked his fingers through idly, gently stroking Harry’s scalp, and Harry leaned into the touch. Ha, cat. Harry’s hair was soft and smelled like strawberries underneath Louis’ fingers, and Louis threaded his fingers through it over and over. After a few minutes, Harry leaned his head against Louis’ shoulder with a contented sigh, never taking his eyes off the screen. But he wore a sleepy smile through the rest of the movie. When the king made Ariel a human and waved goodbye from the sea and Harry sniffled softly beside him, Louis curled his arm around the boy tighter and let him cry.

Dinner passed as usual, in a flurry of grabbing hands and raised voices, and Louis smiled happily as he fought Lottie for the last piece of garlic bread. After dinner they watched the real film for the evening, which was thankfully NOT _The Little Mermaid II_ (Louis prayed such a thing would never exist).

It was the _Lion King_. A cartoon. About lethal cats. Surely he wouldn’t have to suffer through anymore Harry tears in this one. Needless to say, this time even Louis got a little teary when Mufasa fell off the ridge. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Harry was sniffling loudly next to him. Louis would never again doubt the power of Disney films over mere mortal emotions after that night.

Following the movie, when the popcorn bowls had been rounded up and the lounge tidied, Harry and Louis plopped down on opposite sides of the couch. It was almost time to go. Harry stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling, absently twirling a curl around his finger. He was frowning slightly in that way Louis had come to associate as Harry’s thinking look. Unlike Louis’ thinking look, which usually ended in the two of them doing something absolutely crazy, Harry’s thinking look ended in some deep, off the wall question like “Do birds all speak the same language?” or “Has anyone ever invented drinking fountains with lemonade instead of water?”

Louis knew, whatever the question may be, to give Harry time to think it through. So he waited, flipping idly through a Batman comic book. Finally, Harry spoke.

“Hey Lou?”

“Mmm?”

Harry hesitated.

“What’s up, Haz?” he asked, glancing up from his reading. Harry sat up with a frown.

“Was thinking about that movie,” he said, not meeting Louis’ eyes, instead picking at the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah?” Louis asked, setting the comic aside. “Okay.” Louis sat up, mirroring Harry who sat cross-legged.

“So like...I was wondering. Don’t laugh,” he warned, chancing a glance up at Louis.

“Okay,” Louis frowned, a little worried.

“Remember when Simba was being chased by those hyenas…”

“Yeah?” Louis squinted in confusion.

“Like, he could have died. He was supposed to die, right?” Harry glanced at him briefly for confirmation, and Louis nodded reassuringly.

“And if he had, he’d never have gotten together with Nala. Or gone on those adventures.”

“…Right?” Louis agreed hesitantly, no idea where this was going.

“So I was thinking, like, if I died. And never fell in love or went to university or grew up. And I never told you how...important you are.”

“Harry,” Louis frowned, scooting closer. “You’re not dying, ok?” Harry began unconsciously biting his nails, and Louis impatiently grabbed Harry’s hand in his own. “…are you?!” he asked incredulously as the thought hit him.

Harry’s eyes widened. “No…”

Louis let out a sigh of relief.

“Jesus, Haz,” Louis laughed faintly. He cradled Harry’s soft hand between his smaller ones. “So what…”

“I, um. I was just thinking, if I was about to die, what I’d miss. Who I’d miss. And you’d be there, right? If I was dying? If anything was happening,” Harry asked.

“Course!” Louis breathed earnestly. “You’re my best friend, Haz.”

Harry felt a rush of fondness at Louis’ words. Louis’ cheeks were stained a lovely pink, and he was fidgeting with Harry’s hand between his own slightly sweaty hands. Harry wrapped one already-larger hand around Louis’, stilling the movement. He cupped Louis’ delicate hands between his like something precious, stroking his thumbs over the small knuckles. Harry was awed by the warm, tingling sensation he felt originating from their point of contact and spreading throughout his body. Interesting.

Louis huffed out a sheepish laugh at his own nervousness. He was always used to being the one who took care of Harry, holding his hand or hugging him when he was upset. It was weird that Harry was the one doing the looking after now, but then again, maybe not; Harry was a very tactile person. He loved to be touched. It was just…Harry was his baby. Always had been. Sometimes he looked at Louis or did something endearing, and it was like they were six and seven again, cuddled under a blanket fort in Louis’ room with a flashlight and Louis’ Game Boy.

But now Harry was eleven-and-a-half, and talking about growing up and getting married and moving away. And Louis wasn’t so sure Harry needed him anymore. He was feeling conflicted as he tentatively squeezed Harry’s hands and met his eyes. But Harry just grinned, a slow-spreading smile that showed the dimple in his cheek. His green eyes were soft and a little darker in the low light of the lounge.

“You’re mine, too,” Harry smiled shyly. “And if I haven’t told you, I love you, Lou.”

Louis smiled then, a soft, peaceful smile he sometimes got when they were watching the sky together in Harry’s garden.

“Love you too, Hazza.”

Back in the kitchen, their mums were finished up cleaning. Johanna was rounding up a sleepy Lottie and Fizzy and gathering their things. Time to go home. Louis didn’t want to be the one to let go first. He blinked at Harry helplessly, but Harry just gently released Louis’ hands with an enigmatic smile. Louis smiled faintly, then cleared his throat.

“So everything’s ok?” he asked, fretting a little over Harry out of habit.

“Yes,” Harry nodded sheepishly, his smile back to normal.

Louis’ mum called to him from the front door, and Louis nodded back. “Night, Haz.”

Harry watched Louis stand and slip into his busted trainers and glance shyly over his shoulder as he left.

“Bye, Lou,” Harry replied. He waited until he heard the front door close and the voices fade away into the summer night, and then he flopped back onto the couch with a sigh. He pressed his hands to his face and let out a muffled groan.

He had a crush on his best friend.

*

On the way home, Louis’ mind was a whirl of thoughts. The farther he got from Harry’s cozy house, his warm, soft hands that made Louis tingle, the clearer his mind became.

He had held Harry’s hand, and he liked it.

Louis rubbed his hands down his face from his seat in of Mum’s van. Louis was twelve and had never actually held hands with someone, or kissed someone, and he felt out of his depth. He was imagining kissing Harry—a boy—and it didn’t seem as weird as he’d thought. The boy part, at least. The Harry part, with him being Louis’ best friend, practically his little brother, felt weird. But not bad, necessarily, and well. That was new. Why would Harry want to kiss him, though, Louis wondered agitatedly. Harry was sweet and popular and could have any girl he wanted kiss him. Was Louis just a safe backup plan? God.

Someone was going to hold Harry’s hand and kiss him someday, Louis realized with a sinking feeling, and it may not be him. Someone may get to him first, before Louis got a chance to…what, exactly? And why should Louis care who Harry’s first kiss would be?

“Louis? We’re here, love,” Mum said next to him, and Louis snapped out of it to see they were indeed parked in the driveway, back home. He darted a quick glance to his mum, worried she could hear his thoughts, and then unbuckled his seatbelt and wordlessly went inside. Johannah watched curiously as he went, wondering at his unusual quietness. Boys, she thought, nudging two sleepy girls and guiding them in the house. And then: _Harry_. She didn’t know anyone else who had such an effect on her son. She would talk to Anne tomorrow and see if anything was happening. She hated to see her two favorite boys unhappy.

*

Across town, Harry stood at his window looking out into the quiet street. He couldn’t see Louis’ house from this far, but he liked to imagine if he squinted hard enough, he would be able to see around the brick two-story house blocking it from view. Harry opened the window, letting the summer breeze into his hot room. The white gauze curtains fluttered in the breeze, and he took a deep breath of sweet night air.

Harry climbed into bed, tired but not sleepy, and stared at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. It had taken him and Louis hours to stick them there when Harry was eight. (They couldn’t reach the high ceilings even standing on the bed; in the end, Harry had sat on Louis’ shoulders and unsteadily stuck the little stars to the ceiling. Three years later, they had never fallen.)

Harry thought of the events of the night. He had never spent a lot of time thinking about girls or boys in that way; he tended to just like people. If someone was fun to play with, it didn’t matter to Harry if it was a girl or a boy. He knew not everyone thought that way. Liam didn’t really like girls; he would freeze up and stutter whenever they were around. Zayn didn’t really like anyone, except their small group of best friends. And Louis…Louis seemed to love everyone. He loved making people laugh and talking to them.  And everyone loved Louis.

Harry was no exception. He loved Louis more than anyone, and soaked up his attention and praise like a flower basking in the sun. When Harry thought of who he’d one day kiss, or go traveling with, or live with, all he thought of was Louis. It might have seemed impulsive, telling Louis he loved him out of nowhere, Harry realized in hindsight, but he’d always been taught to tell the ones he loved how he felt. Harry tried to imagine what his life would be like in secondary school, or after university. He didn’t know what he’d be doing, or where. But Harry had a feeling it wouldn’t matter if he was 16 or 60—he would always want Louis close, closer, holding him and running his hands through Harry’s hair like Harry was something special.

*

Louis woke with a start in his twin bed, heart pounding. His legs were tangled in the sheets and sweat beaded his hairline and the back of his neck. In his tiny room, everything was still except for Louis’ quick, panicked breaths.

Louis hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep; he’d been sat on his bed for what felt like hours thinking over that night. He must’ve finally fallen asleep without turning on the ceiling fan, like he always did, because it was burning hot in his room.

He hadn’t had a nightmare in over a year.

Louis willed his breathing to even out and his heart to stop galloping in his chest. He was fine. Everything was fine. It was just a dream.

Louis shakily held his head in his hands and counted to ten, trying not to relive what he’d just seen. But unbidden, images of the dream ran through his head on a loop.

Louis had suffered some terrible dreams in the past. He’d been haunted by ghosts, killed in a house fire trying to get his mum and sisters out, and most notably, been chased by a T-Rex after watching _Jurassic Park_. Stupid dinosaurs, he winced. And all these things were scary enough on their own, but it went further than that. Because the ghosts had initially been after Harry; had grabbed one of his slim ankles from under the bed and tried to drag him away to Hell. In the house fire, Harry had run in after him to help rescue Louis’ family, and almost hadn’t come out. Harry had been running from the T-Rex but stumbled and fallen; he wasn’t quick enough to get away. So Louis had pushed him into a hiding place and taken on the threat himself.

All Louis’ nightmares were about losing his best friend. Louis didn’t even care if he died, as long as Harry made it out. And so Louis would wake up gasping for breath, having most likely died in his dreams, and sigh in relief that Harry was ok.

This time was not like that, though. Harry was not ok. He hadn’t been able to save him. They were on some kind of a ship in a terrible storm. The giant wave was coming, but Harry was trapped under some heavy cargo. Harry had looked at him with huge green, trusting eyes and said, “It’s ok, Lou—go ahead. I’ll be ok.” But Louis couldn’t leave him. So he’d frantically started to pick up the things that had Harry pinned, but every time he turned around, there was even more debris than before. Then the wave came, and they’d been consumed by water.

Louis was a very rational person. Despite what some people thought, he always carefully considered his actions and any consequences before he acted. He was not going to go over to Harry’s house to check on him. Because Harry was ok. It had all been a dream. Harry was fine. But Louis couldn’t even call him without risking the whole house waking up. Louis realized with a start that he was the one who wasn’t ok. He sat there in the deafening quiet of his bedroom, trying to calm down. He looked at his bedside clock. 1:39 a.m. He debated another moment, then stood and slipped on a pair of running shorts he found on the floor. He would just walk by and check that everything at Harry’s house was ok. Then he could finally sleep. He tiptoed barefoot down the hall and out the back door into the night.

*

Harry woke from a light sleep to the sound of floorboards creaking by his window. He heard the clatter of things on his desk being knocked down, and then a familiar voice cursing under his breath.

Louis.

Harry blinked slowly as Louis finally entered his field of vision. Louis stood uncertainly beside Harry’s desk, barefoot in yesterday’s running shorts. He was breathing heavily like he’d just run all the way here. Harry rolled onto his side and asked groggily,

“Lou?”

Louis nodded and stepped closer. In the moonlight, Harry could see Louis was frowning anxiously. There were dark circles under his eyes. Harry knew before Louis even told him.

Harry pulled the covers back and scooted over to make room.

“Bad dream?” Harry rasped, and Louis nodded wordlessly. Harry gestured for Louis to climb in. Louis sighed like he had been holding his breath and slipped into the bed, turning slowly to face Harry. He looked so tired and small, just like he had when he’d come in through Harry’s window in a thunderstorm when Louis was nine. His dad had left that day.

Harry smiled sleepily and moved so he and Louis were eye to eye, heads on the same pillow.

“Ok?” Harry whispered, looking into Louis’ eyes.

“Yeah,” Louis finally spoke, trying to smile. He still looked scared, though, so Harry pulled Louis closer until his head rested in the crook of Harry’s shoulder and draped an arm over his small body. Harry soothed his hand up and down Louis arm until he felt the boy go pliant beside him. He gently pulled the covers up over Louis’ body. Harry was almost asleep when he heard Louis mumble against his chest,

“You died.”

Harry’s heart swelled painfully in his chest. Louis was having bad dreams about Harry dying. All because he was talking about that silly movie. Only it was a great movie. Harry felt a smile spread across his face in spite of his heavy heart.

“’S the circle of life, Louis,” he whispered in mock-seriousness against Louis’ soft, light brown hair.

Louis groaned feebly in his arms, and just pinched Harry’s side drowsily in response. Harry snickered and snuggled closer. They slept.

In the morning, Anne passed by Harry’s room on her way downstairs and found two boys sleeping peacefully, Harry curled up around Louis’ back in the soft morning light. She just smiled and set an extra plate for breakfast.

*****

July

 

Louis was going to football camp, and for the first time it was a sleep away camp. Liam would be there, and his friends from the school team, but still Louis was nervous.

He was out at the shops with his mum that day, buying things he’d need for camp from a list the coach provided. Currently they were inside a thrift store looking for red athletic shorts. Louis was bored. He ambled through the aisles listlessly, occasionally stopping to read t shirts advertising everything from the 1990 FIFA World Cup (England had finished fourth, no thanks) and tie-dye to Hard Rock Café.

Across the shop, Mum was trying to keep his sisters out of a box of old scarves as she scoured the racks for red shorts. Louis scanned the shelves that lined the walls with antique toys, collectibles, and electronics. There was a set of walkie-talkies that only looked a little worn, and Louis already had four ideas of things to do with those with Harry. The price tag read $25.00, which seemed a little steep to Louis considering they were used. He shrugged and turned to go help his mum watch his sisters when he saw it.

Louis thought it was a toy at first. It was a white camera, sitting between a chipped picture frame and a ceramic Elvis figurine. A Polaroid. Louis didn’t know a lot about cameras, but this one he recognized. You took a picture, and it popped out the photo instantly.

It looked to be in good condition, and the price was right--$10.00. But the best part was the little rainbow stripe that traveled underneath the lens to the bottom of the camera. It was just so Harry. It could never live up to the new, professional camera Harry wanted, but Louis figured he could use this one in the meantime. He smiled happily and took the camera off the shelf before joining his sisters beside a growing pile of scarves.

Louis carefully set the camera down and began to free Fizzy from the mummy wrap job Lottie had done on her with what looked to be a hundred hideous scarves. Girls, honestly.

He realized with a start that the camera didn’t have a strap or cord to hold it, and he felt some of his excitement waning. Louis was pretty sure this store didn’t sell camera straps. He didn’t want to give the camera to Harry with a missing piece. He paused to untangle a woolen scarf that Lottie had knotted repeatedly around Fizzy’s throat, and that’s when it hit him. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

*

Louis was buzzing with excitement when he stood on Harry’s doorstep later that afternoon. They were all scheduled for another movie night tomorrow, but Louis didn’t want to wait. When he heard footsteps approaching the other side of the door, Louis hid the camera behind his back.

Gemma opened the door, a cordless phone held up to one ear. She glanced at Louis and whispered mid sentence, “Garden” before returning to her conversation. Louis nodded and eased in sideways, keeping the present shielded behind his back. It was a real testament to their relationship that Gemma just rolled her eyes and smacked Louis on the arm without missing a beat in her conversation.

Louis walked through the house to the kitchen door and looked outside. Harry was there, under the ancient oak tree, playing with a little ginger kitten. Louis bit his lip in anticipation and held the camera behind his back as he opened the door and crossed the backyard. Harry was grinning when he turned to see Louis walking towards him. He was dangling a stick above the kitten’s head, watching it swat playfully.

“Lou!” he exclaimed. “Look!”

Louis grinned back as he approached.

“Who’s this then?” he asked Harry.

“His name is Molly,” Harry answered proudly. Louis chuckled.

“You gave a boy cat a girl’s name?”

“I don’t believe in stereotypes, Lou,” Harry replied sagely, and ok. Made sense. Louis voiced his thoughts aloud, and Harry beamed at him. He noticed Louis was hiding something behind his back, and his eyes widened.

“What’s that?” Harry asked hopefully, straining his neck to see. Louis just smirked.

“Something you want.”

Harry’s face lit up. “A pony?!” he cried.

“Yes, Harold, I’m holding a pony behind my back,” he deadpanned. Harry pouted briefly before his face cleared into a dazzling smile.

“It’s not my birthday!”

“I know, dummy. But I thought you could use it,” Louis explained. He knelt carefully on the grass in front of Harry. Harry scooped Molly up in his lap and turned to face Louis.

“Ok, the thing is,” Louis hedged, suddenly nervous. “Don’t be mad,” he pleaded, biting his lip. “I saw the camera you wanted in the magazine that one day. When we were making our Christmas lists?”

Harry frowned, and then realization dawned on his face. He blushed, suddenly ashamed he hadn’t told Louis about the camera. Louis smiled reassuringly.

“And I know it’s not much, and it’s ok if you hate it,” Louis continued, “but I saw this and instantly thought of you.”

Harry stared back, seemingly spellbound.

“Tell me if it’s stupid, and I’ll take it back,” Louis insisted, waiting for Harry’s ok.

Harry nodded, a tiny frown wrinkling his eyebrows. Louis smiled nervously and revealed the present.

“It’s not much,” he admitted, holding it out to Harry.

Harry’s jaw dropped as he took it in. He carefully set the kitten down in his lap, never taking his eyes off the camera.

A camera.

Louis had bought him a _camera_.

He held it speechlessly, taking in the compact white frame and the tiny rainbow stripe down the front. It was tied with a soft blue scarf, a little frayed at the ends.

It was perfect.

Harry slowly looked up at Louis, and for one terrible moment, Louis was afraid Harry was going to cry. Was it really that awful? Louis started to panic.

Then Harry smiled.

His lips curved into a wide smile, and his eyes sparkled, and the tell-tale dimple appeared in his cheek.

“Lou,” he said breathlessly.

“I know it’s kind of dumb,” Louis replied shyly.

“It’s perfect,” Harry corrected, eyes crinkling up in a happy smile.

 _You’re perfect_ , Louis thought, taking in Harry’s expression. And, _what?!_

“Oh, and you’ll need these,” Louis added, pulling a package of instant film out of his back pocket. Harry nodded excitedly.

“You got me a camera,” Harry said, overwhelmed. He simply stared at Louis for a moment.

“Yeah,” Louis replied, scratching the back of his head. “I thought you could use it for practice or summat, until you got your nice one.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully at the Polaroid in his hands before carefully setting it aside. He gingerly placed Molly in the grass beside his stick. Then he looked at Louis, an unreadable expression on his face.

What the…?

Then Harry sprang forward, tackling Louis in a giant hug. Louis fell back on the soft grass with a surprised oof, then laughed. Not for the first time in his life, (and hopefully not for the last), he had a mouthful of curls and a giggling Harry in his arms. He looked up at the cloudless afternoon sky and couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy.

His musing was interrupted by a soft mewling near his ear, and Louis turned to see a disgruntled Molly staring at him. Harry was on to something; the cat just looked like a Molly. Louis nuzzled its soft fur, and the kitten purred happily.

Harry pulled back, chuckles finally dying down, just in time to see Molly try to climb up Louis’ face. Harry barked out a laugh at Louis’ muffled cries of protest and reached for the camera.

“Hang on, Lou,” he laughed, opening the film packet and glancing at the instructions. He loaded the camera and hoped he’d done it right, and then he aimed at Louis, who was theatrically trying to wrestle Molly off his head. Harry clicked the shutter, and Louis squawked. He spit out a few cat hairs and corralled Molly onto his chest as he gasped for breath.

“You wanker,” Louis wheezed.

Harry grinned unrepentantly as the camera made a distinctive sound. A few moment later, a photo popped out. Louis groaned.

“Harry, I swear to God,” he threatened, finally catching his breath.

Harry examined the photo, then began to shake it like he’d seen on the telly. Sure enough, an image  began to bloom before his eyes, and he handed it to Louis.

“This is for you,” Harry said serenely, laying the photo on Louis’ chest and scooping Molly into his arms, cooing at the cat sweetly.

Louis wiped the rest of the cat hair from his face and shirt, and then picked up the photo. He squinted against the sunlight as the image cleared.

“I am deeply regretting this decision already. Give it back,” Louis wheedled, reaching for the camera.

Harry snorted a laugh and held it out of reach. “Sorry, no take backs.”

“You’re an absolute menace, Harry, you know that?” Louis retorted as he stared at the photo before him.

“You love me,” Harry said loftily.

“God knows why,” Louis grumbled, staring at the image of a ginger cat sprawled across his face.

“Now help me take a portrait of Molly for our wall,” Harry said, handing the kitten back to Louis. Harry put the scarf-strap over his head and readied the camera.

“Smile,” he commanded, staring through the viewfinder.

And Louis did.

*

The night before Louis left for football camp found him stretched out in Harry’s garden again, this time on an old quilt with Harry, as they watched the night sky. Harry hummed contently (“The Lion Sleeps Tonight”; Louis swore to God he was going to burn that _Lion King_ Cassette tape) as he aimed his new camera at the stars. Louis doubted the picture would take, but the Polaroid film stuff was cheap. They could always buy more. And it was so worth it to see the look on Harry’s face as he took a picture.

Not that he thought about Harry’s face. Louis absolutely did not think about the curve of his lips or the way his eyes lit up when he laughed or that blasted dimple. And he definitely didn’t think about the way Harry’s breath tickled his skin when he whispered something in Louis’ ear, or how his hands had tingled when Harry held them in his.

Harry was his best friend. Not his… _boyfriend_. Louis blushed just at the word. He was glad it was dark and Harry couldn’t see.

Currently, Harry was lining up a shot of the Big Dipper in his viewfinder, biting his lip in concentration.

Louis was starting to think for the first time that it may be a good idea to spend some time away from Harry. Logically, he couldn’t be around his best friend all the time, right? He knew people got tired of each other all the time and even stopped talking. That never happened with Harry, but what if…?

What if Harry got tired of him?

 _Click_.

Louis looked out of the corner of his eye as Harry took the picture, only to see the camera aimed at himself. Harry smiled happily and carefully rested the camera on his chest. Then he giggled to himself.

Louis turned his head to look at Harry.

“Hey, Lou,” Harry asked, biting back a grin as he looked at the sky.

“Yeah?”

“How does the solar system hold up its trousers?”

Louis groaned and closed his eyes. “Harry.”

“C’mon, Lou—it’s funny,” Harry pleaded, turning to smile at Louis.

Louis lasted four seconds before he caved. “Okay…how?”

“With an asteroid belt!”

Louis covered his face with his hands and groaned louder. Harry just began to chuckle.

“Okay, okay—this one is good,” Harry insisted. “How does the man in the moon cut his hair?”

“I swear to God, Harry,” came Louis’ muffled voice from behind his hands.

“Well?” Harry prompted, turning on his side to face Louis.

Louis sighed. He wordlessly turned to face Harry, mirroring his position on the quilt.

“How does the man in the moon cut his hair?” Harry repeated emphatically.

“I don’t know, how?” Louis grinned reluctantly.

“Eclipse it.”

Louis slapped himself on the forehead as Harry cackled with glee.

“Get it? Get it? ‘E-clips-it!” Harry crowed, rolling around on the quilt with laughter.

“Please stop talking,” Louis begged, giving Harry a warning poke to his side.

Harry squealed and jerked away from the touch, laughing even harder. Jesus.

“Lou!”

“No more!” Louis pleaded, poking Harry again and again.

“Aah! Stop!” Harry snorted. “I’m done,” he promised with a breathy laugh, holding his hands up in surrender. But his eyes sparkled with mirth.

“You better be, Haz,” Louis warned. “I’m gonna tickle you until you piss yourself—“

“No!” Harry gasped, edging away out of tickling range.

“…again,” Louis said smugly.

“That was one time!” Harry yelled, voice cracking a little. Louis dissolved into laughter.

“Think you’re funny? Fine…what kind of songs do the planets like to sing?” Harry taunted. “Hmm?” He went on the defensive, tickling an unsuspecting Louis’ ribs.

“Shut UP, Haz!” Louis growled, but he was laughing too.

“…Nep-tunes!” Harry answered, deftly zoning in on Louis’ most ticklish spot on his neck.

“Aah! Enough,” Louis cried, rolling on top of Harry and pinning his arms above his head. He circled Harry’s bony wrists with his hands. Harry’s laughter died down. Louis smirked in satisfaction and said, “So there.”

Harry smiled up at him, still catching his breath, flexing experimentally at Louis’ hold on his wrists. Louis tightened his grip in response.

“Have you quite finished?” Louis asked.

Harry bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

Louis relaxed his crouch over Harry, sitting back on the boy’s thighs. He loosened his hold on Harry’s wrists and smiled. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then:

“I’m gonna miss you, Lou,” Harry admitted softly.

Louis felt warmth spread through him at that. He smiled down at Harry. “Aw, Haz, I’ll miss you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” Louis rolled his eyes. “You being my best friend and all.”

“But…what if you come back with a new best friend?” Harry asked, eyes wide in the moonlight.

“Impossible,” Louis responded immediately. “I don’t want another best friend; I only want you.”

It was hard to tell, but Louis thought Harry blushed in the moonlight.

“But maybe you’ll find another me,” Louis teased, trailing one of his hands down to tickle the soft underside of Harry’s arm.

Harry snorted a laugh and arched away from the touch.

“Lou! No I won’t,” Harry giggled. “I won’t!” he insisted as Louis moved down to tickle his ribs.

“Are you sure?” Louis pressed.

“Yes, I— _ah!_ —I’m sure,” Harry gasped as Louis tickled him harder. “Lou! Please!”

“Well, ok. All you had to do was ask!” Louis said primly, stopping his assault. Below him, Harry wheezed out a breath.

“Ok, ok,” Harry chuckled. “Besides, no one can replace you. Don’t worry, Lou. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Louis smiled so wide his eyes crinkled in the way that Harry loved. He couldn’t help giving Harry a goofy Eskimo kiss before nosing over to the soft shell of Harry’s ear.

“You better be,” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear, observing how Harry went completely still underneath him. He didn’t appear to be breathing. Louis rolled over to the side so he was laying on his back beside Harry, this time much closer. They watched the night sky in silence while crickets chirped around them, pretending they couldn’t see each other’s smiles.

*

Harry counted down the days until Louis came home on his “Lighthouses of England” calendar on his bedroom wall. He taught Molly how to climb the stairs and took pictures of the sky every night, sometimes alone, sometimes with Mum or Gemma and even once Zayn, so that when Louis came home he could show him what the stars looked like while he was gone.

Louis came back from football camp with a deep, golden tan and a new, loudmouthed Irish friend that was transferring to their school. Harry was jealous he had been replaced or that Louis might _like_ him for about five minutes until he was properly introduced to the boy at the Tomlinsons’ welcome home party for Louis. Niall, the skinny, brown-haired boy turned out to be, hugged Harry like they were long-lost brothers and then pulled back to inspect him. “Jesus, you are pretty, and I’m not even into blokes meself,” Niall exclaimed, looking over his shoulder at Louis before turning back to Harry with a bright smile. “Lovely to meet ya, mate,” he said warmly. Gemma was next, popping her gum noncommittally as Niall introduced himself, blushing to his hairline. She greeted him politely and then walked off to join Anne and Johanna in the lounge, slender hips swaying in her high-waisted jeans, and Niall watched, jaw dropped in shock, and tripped over a potted plant.

Zayn snickered but went to help Niall up, Louis waggled his eyebrows at Harry, and Liam buried his face in his hands and sighed. Harry thought Niall was going to fit into their group perfectly.

The rest of the summer passed in a happy blur of afternoon football games and photos and nights giggling under the stars in Harry’s garden. It might have been easier to drag out another old blanket in addition to the tattered quilt Harry’s nan had made decades ago, but in a way they preferred to be crammed in all together. Zayn, who had taken to Niall like the little brother he never had, would smile fondly as the Irish boy chattered on about everything under the sun and snuggle up next to Liam. Liam would blush but curl his arm awkwardly around Zayn and occasionally check up on him, whispering to see if he was tired or cold or needed more space. It seemed as long as he was cuddled in next to Liam, Zayn was fine. And at the center of it all, present but in their own little world, were Louis and Harry. Plotting pranks on Liam, organizing all kinds of mischief, whispering into the night long after the boys had fallen asleep and Niall snored in the background. Sometimes Louis would make Harry giggle on purpose just so he could clamp his hand over the boy’s mouth and shush him, and Harry would bury his face in Louis’ neck and try to muffle his laughs. And sometimes Harry would tell a particularly awful joke just to see Louis roll his eyes and pounce on him. Every once in a while, Louis would wake up from such a sleepover with Harry curled up around his back like a giant kitten, snuffling into Louis’ sun-bleached hair, to feel a new hardness pressed against him. Louis had woken up with plenty of those, and knew it didn’t necessarily _mean_ anything. He didn’t tease Harry about it, in fact pretended not to notice. Louis had pretty much decided he liked boys by that point, but didn’t want Harry to think he was trying to come on to him. He had to occasionally remind himself that Harry was still really young and probably didn’t like boys. And when _Louis_ woke up alone and hard and hazily wished Harry was there to cuddle him, well. Maybe it was just a phase.

*****

Summer 1997

 

Harry was signed up for photography class in the fall, and he’d never been more excited about school.

...Even though he already had homework.

He was sat on his bedroom floor, learning how to prepare a roll of film for developing while Louis flipped halfheartedly through his summer reading for English class. The process, as the professor in summer orientation explained, was simple: to take the film out of its canister, roll it onto a film reel, and place it in a light-safe container to develop the negatives.

In a darkroom, in total darkness.

Piece of cake, Harry thought, accepting an old practice reel and roll of film from Professor Grimshaw (“Call me Nick”) (weird).

Ha.

“Aah! Why is this so hard?!” Harry exclaimed, waving the reel in his hand.

“It just takes practice, Haz, you’ll get it,” Louis said reassuringly, glancing up from his copy of Julius Caesar. Which he was totally reading, and not just skimming over the same paragraph over and over.

Harry muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Easy for you to say” before going back to work.

Louis pretended to keep reading as he watched Harry hook the end of the practice film in the tiny prongs of the reel and slowly begin winding it. Harry was holding his breath and frowning in concentration, but his fingers shook a little and the roll of film crinkled just enough to pop it out of the groove. Harry closed his eyes, jaw locked, and appeared to be counting to ten.

Louis shouldn’t have been so endeared.

But there sat Harry, his cheeks flushed in frustration, curls still damp from a shower, biting his plump bottom lip. Harry took a slow breath, and Louis watched his chest rise and fall with the movement. Then Harry opened his eyes and dropped the reel into his lap.

“Maybe I need a break,” he mumbled in defeat, slouching where he sat. Harry looked hesitantly at Louis, who smiled apologetically.

“Or…” Louis trailed off, setting his book on the couch, “you could show me. It might help to explain it to someone else,” he shrugged. Louis raised his eyebrows in expectation.

“But I can’t even—yeah, ok,” Harry conceded with a sigh, picking the reel back up. “So you have to line up the little holes in the film with the prongs of the reel.”

Harry gingerly hooked the film and held it taut.

Louis nodded patiently. “Okay.”

“And then…see the ridges in the reel?” Harry gestured. Louis nodded.

“You start winding the film around it, going outward until it’s all wound.”

Louis watched Harry begin wrapping the film around the reel.

“Only…the film can’t be too close on either side, because if it touches itself, it can ruin the negatives,” Harry said, voice laced with frustration. Louis made a sympathetic sound of assent.

Harry fumbled while wrapping, and the film made a tell-tale crinkling sound as it went off track. Then the film came unhooked, and it fluttered into Harry’s lap in a long spiral. He was back to square one.

“Okay…looks difficult,” Louis admitted.

Harry hung his head and sighed. “Yeah, it is.”

“Hmm.”

Louis dropped down to his knees and crawled over to Harry where he was sat on the floor.

“That was a good try; now show me again,” Louis coaxed.

“Lou—“ Harry huffed.

“I said,” Louis soothed, moving behind Harry to hook his chin over his shoulder, “try it again.”

Harry sighed and melted back into Louis. “Fine.”

Harry carefully fitted the end of the film onto the little metal prongs and slowly began winding. But this time, he felt Louis’ slender hands bracing his, steadying his movements.

“Mhmm,” Louis said softly. “Keep going.”

Harry felt a jolt pulsing through his body at the point of contact between them. He took a breath, and slowly turned the reel in his left hand as he wound the film with the other. Louis was pressed against his back, breathing slowly, and Harry found himself matching Louis’ breathing.

Louis felt the moment Harry began breathing in sync; the younger boy’s muscles relaxed and his head lolled slightly to one side. Louis watched patiently as Harry’s movements became more fluid and confident.

“Good,” Louis whispered. He felt rather than saw Harry’s cheek lift in a slow smile as he worked.

Harry slowly wound the rest of the film, and Louis watched in satisfaction. At last, he reached the end of the roll of film and curled it carefully in place in the outermost groove. As one, they let out a sigh of relief.

“There ya go,” Louis praised.

“Thanks,” Harry rasped. He leaned his head back onto Louis’ shoulder for a moment, and the two sat in silence. Then Harry sighed.

“Now if I could just do it in the dark.”

“Completely in the dark?” Louis wondered aloud. Okay, that did seem impossible. However…

“Why didn’t you say so?” Louis quipped as he unwrapped himself from Harry.

Harry made a soft noise of confusion as Louis stood and crossed the room. He watched as Louis rifled through his top drawer—heyyy—and pulled out a silky scarf. It was one of Harry’s favorites: royal blue with tiny white dots.

Louis nodded to himself and sauntered back to Harry, rolling the scarf into a long strip as he went. He knelt behind Harry and asked,

“Do you trust me, Hazza?”

“Y-yes?” Harry replied uneasily, trying to look over his shoulder at what Louis was going to do.

“Perfect. Now, if this doesn’t work,” Louis explained, carefully wrapping the scarf around Harry’s eyes and tying it at the back of his head, “You can always lock yourself in Gemma’s closet and turn the lights off.”

“Um, Lou—“

“Tight enough?” Louis cut him off, securing the knot. Harry sighed but nodded.

“Good. Now…let’s wind some film.”

Harry heard Louis retrieve the metal reel and the practice roll of film and felt him place the items in his hands.

Harry allowed himself to panic a little—not because he was scared of the dark (he wasn’t), but because he didn’t want to mess up and disappoint Louis, who would be watching. Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm the pulse racing in his ears.

“What do you do first?” Louis prompted gently, settling in behind Harry. The warm weight at his back was comforting. Harry considered the reel in his left hand and the ribbon of film in his right, then wordlessly lifted the reel.

“Ok,” Louis complied.

Harry got to work finding the little metal spikes to hook the film on, and when he’d found them, slowly lined up one end of the film to attach it. Going completely by feel, Harry was a little disoriented. He moved even slower and more patiently than normal, letting his breathing fall into sync with Louis’. When the film hooked properly on the reel, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Now came the hard part: winding the film without it crinkling or coming loose.

Just then, Harry felt Louis’ slender hand cup the hand which currently held the reel.

“Okay?” Louis whispered, his touch warm and reassuring.

“Yeah,” Harry whispered back, feeling himself relax. Harry began winding the film then, taking his time. The edges of the film made a soft zipping sound as they slid into the grooves. With his sight gone, Harry was much more aware of his other senses—the whispered zip of the film sliding into place and the sound of birds chirping outside his window; the feel of Louis’ slight body behind his, his warm hand bracing Harry’s; the faint smell of a casserole baking downstairs, and the familiar smell of Louis’ CK One cologne. Louis was just so small, Harry found himself musing, yet always looked after Harry and defended him. Sometimes, Harry wanted to cuddle Louis close and whisper soothing things in his ear and take care of him for a change. As if Louis would ever let that happen, ha. Only when they were sleeping and Louis was soft and quiet did he like to be held.

But Harry would hold him _so_ well--he would protect him and love him and tell him every day how special he was, if he ever had the chance.

Harry lost track of what his hands were doing, and the film made a loud crack sound as it slipped off track. Harry muttered a curse under his breath and flushed in embarrassment behind his blindfold.

Louis made a sympathetic sound and stilled Harry’s hands where they were fumbling blindly with the reel.

“’S okay,” he soothed. “You’ll get it. You know…” Louis trailed off, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. His breath tickled Harry’s ear and Harry’s breath hitched.

“Maybe you just need some motivation. To help you focus.”

Harry recognized that tone, blindfolded as he may be. That was Louis’ “idea, proceed with caution” voice. His, “trust me, this will be fun” voice; his "I saw this on Telly" tone that had convinced Harry to streak down the street once, and had gotten Niall to eat a hot pepper hanging upside down on the playground, and had convinced Liam for an entire week that there was a secret swimming pool in the school basement.

Louis leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If you do it right, I’ll buy you an ice-cream.”

Louis almost certainly didn’t mean for it to be hot, but Harry was very affected. He felt his cock hardening in his jean shorts, and oh God. Louis was going to see. He had a perfect view of Harry’s lap. Unbidden, images of Louis licking ice cream  slowly off a cone filled Harry’s mind. Harry wanted to suck the sugar off Louis’ tongue, oh _shit_.

“U-um. Okay,” Harry stuttered breathlessly. He squirmed subtly trying to think unsexy thoughts. Louis hummed in satisfaction and guided the reel back into Harry’s left hand.

“Then try again,” Louis said, smacking a kiss to the side of Harry’s head and easing back a fraction.

Harry was doomed.

*

Late July

 

Since school was starting soon, Anne and Johannah decided to take the Tomlinson/Styles households back to school shopping. Gemma had taken Lottie and Fizzy to the girls’ section of a department store while their mums browsed through racks of baby clothes. Louis’ mum was having another baby in the spring.

Harry and Louis were strolling idly through the food court of the shopping center when they saw it. Louis noticed the poster first, while Harry was frowning distractedly at Lottie’s Tamagotchi pet, currently dying. Louis’ pet had died within days of receiving it for Christmas several months ago, but Lottie was a little more responsible for hers. At least, she had the foresight to give it to Harry when it got sick. The first order of business, according to Harry, was to play with it and talk to it regularly. (“ _It_ has a name, Louis.” “ _It_ is a shoddy piece of technology, Harry.” “Don’t listen to him, Princess Buttercup.”)

Whatever.

Louis saw a group of kids standing around the advertising wall for the local cinema. He guided a chattering Harry by the elbow to go investigate. (Harry was making plans for the digital pet’s recovery: “When you’re better, we’ll take you to the dog park and you can make friends!”)

Louis stopped at the edge of the crowd and observed the group of teenage girls gushing about someone on the movie poster—that should have been his first clue that this was a mistake. He craned his neck to see over their heads. (Stupid platform shoes; what the hell?) Louis caught a glimpse of the poster finally. Then he sighed.

Harry looked up and stopped chattering when he realized they’d stopped moving. He took in the girls whispering, and looked curiously at the wall. After a few moments, his eyes widened and he turned to Louis with an excited smile.

“Louis!” he breathed in awe.

 _No no no_. Louis squeezed his eyes tight, hoping when he opened them, that movie poster would disappear.

No such luck.

Harry was biting his lip, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a five-year-old. Princess Buttercup beeped faintly in Harry’s hand, but went completely unnoticed. He grabbed Louis’ hand and pulled him through the crowd, apologizing politely as they went. They stopped a few feet away from the poster to see the familiar face of Leonardo DiCaprio (Louis recognized him from his and Harry’s last cry fest, _Rome + Juliet_ ; just Louis’ luck) on the bow of a ship, holding a drenched Kate Winslett.

 _Titanic_.

Shit.

“Nothing on Earth could come between them,” Harry read breathlessly. He slowly turned to Louis, green eyes already tearing up at the prospect.

Louis was flashing back to watching him cry into the collar of Louis’ shirt during Juliet’s tragic end. Harry had finally cried himself out, snuggled up in Louis’ arms, and they’d slept on Harry’s couch without making it to bed. Louis had woken up the next morning to find Harry curled around _him_ , one hand pressed to Louis’ heart. Jesus. The kid was a glutton for pain.

“Lou…” the boy began, but Louis was already shaking his head.

“No. No way.”

“Louisssss. Please? Look! It comes out in November,” Harry begged, swaying side to side like a small child. The girls still talking about the poster were watching Harry with open interest, appraising his dark curls, bright eyes, rosy cheeks and pretty lips curved into a charming smile, and his long limbs in a white Polo and jean shorts. As he’d let slip to Niall that fateful night at football camp two years ago while Niall played song after sad song on his guitar, Harry was pretty.

Louis wanted to protect him from the hungry eyes of girls standing there, but he also wanted to back Harry against the wall and kiss him until he was gasping and his lips turned strawberry red.

So. Maybe he had no right to complain.

“Louis?”

Louis was torn away from his thoughts at the sound of Harry’s voice.

“Pleeaasseee,” Harry grinned, batting his eyes. Louis narrowed his in response. “I’ll buy you popcorn! And your favorite candy.”

It occurred to Louis it must’ve looked like he and Harry were talking about the movie like it was a date. When he blushed, it wasn’t because he was especially embarrassed, but maybe a little secretly pleased.

“I’ll buy you popcorn! And your favorite candy,” Harry coaxed, wrapping his arm around Louis’ shoulders.

Louis sighed for at least the fifth time that day. “I want nachos,” he said stubbornly, narrowing his eyes in challenge.

“Deal,” Harry promised, hugging Louis in the middle of the food court. And what they were both thinking was, _it’s a date_.

*

August

 

When school started, Harry found himself seated in a circle of mismatched folding chairs and thrift shop sofas in Professor “call me Nick” Grimshaw’s classroom. Harry had his spiral notebook opened to the first page, pencil ready, with five minutes to spare.

So maybe he was a little excited.

(He may have called Louis at 6 a.m., standing in front of his open closet excitedly. “Lou! It’s the first day of school!” “Oh, joy.” “What are you wearing today?” “A frown,” Louis had yawned, then hung up the phone.)

A girl in baggy overalls and a black crop top with a blue streak in her hair walked in and took the empty seat next to Harry. She had a paintbrush stuck in her ponytail and Doc Marten’s on her feet. The girl dropped a messenger bag covered in peace sign patches and safety pins next to her chair and beamed at Harry.

“Hello! I’m Perrie,” she chirped, offering her hand.

“Harry,” Harry grinned at the rhyme as he shook her hand.

“Well, aren’t we a pair,” she smiled. “Bit of a grungy-like room, innit? Is that a lava lamp?” she asked, scanning the room and wrinkling her nose when her gaze landed on the neon pink lamp.

Harry barked out a laugh and nervously covered his mouth, blushing. Perrie raised her eyebrows and laughed at him.

“I hear he’s got a Justin Timberlake poster in his office,” Harry’s friend Jesy added as she slid into the chair on Harry’s other side.

Just then, “Nick” sauntered into the room, and all conversation stopped. The professor smirked at some students as he passed, reminding Harry a little of Louis when he entered a room. The man was wearing his long fringe down and a red flannel shirt over faded jeans and Converse, and carrying a coffee cup. Some of the girls near the front of the room giggled and blushed when he greeted them.

He met Harry’s eyes across the room and winked. Then he cleared his throat and adopted a stern expression.

“Welcome to Photography I. Don’t fuck things up,” Nick said by way of introduction. “Please take out your textbooks and form small groups for your first project. I’m going to finish my coffee, and then we will begin.” He breezed into his office and shut the door. The class exchanged uncertain looks. Harry shrugged at Jesy; Perrie was already doodling on her book in Sharpie, unconcerned. Then they heard the stereo thumping a familiar bass pattern through the wall. Harry frowned.

“I Want You Back?” he asked incredulously as the sounds of N’SYNC vibrated through the office door.

Next to him, Perrie was humming along as she drew a caricature of Nick in the front cover of her book. This was going to be a strange year.

*

At lunch, Harry weaved his way through the students milling about to find Louis at their favorite table. Leigh Anne, Jesy and Niall followed with their trays, chatting about a class, while Perrie carried a paper sack with her lunch. Harry spotted Louis standing by their table with Liam and Zayn, fresh from maths class, talking excitedly. Louis flipped the fringe out of his face and laughed at a story he was telling.

“Louis!” Harry called, finally reaching the table. Louis turned and grinned at them.

“Hazza! Alright?” he asked.

Harry nodded excitedly. “We had photography this morning—say hello to Perrie,” Harry explained, and Louis smiled at the girl, “and we saw the darkroom and got cameras! And our professor—“

“Call me Nick!” Jesy and Perrie imitated the man’s voice, and Niall chuckled as he shoved half a chicken sandwich into his mouth. Liam looked on in horror, probably amazed Niall had lived this long without choking to death.

“Right,” Harry said. “Nick gave us the cameras we’d be using this year, only Perrie and Jesy and I will share. And he listens to N’SYNC! And—“

“Okay, okay,” Louis laughed, holding his hands up. “Slow down, babe.” Harry blushed and grinned down at his food, while Perrie looked on curiously. She met Liam’s eye, and his lip quirked into a smile. Louis should not be so hopelessly endeared; people were watching, but. Harry had been looking forward to this for months.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled sheepishly, but he was practically glowing. Louis had called him babe. It was one of his favorite pet names, right up there with _love_ and _sweetheart_ —one he only called Harry.

“’S okay. So you’ve got an assignment then?” Louis asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah! And we’re taking the camera to the park tomorrow afternoon,” Harry continued. “We were thinking we could have like, a picnic, and all go together, like. And play on the playground as, um…”

“A metaphor,” Perrie answered helpfully. Harry nodded excitedly.

“Would you guys like to help us?” Harry asked, looking from Louis to Liam, Zayn, Niall, and Leigh Anne.

“Well, we have football practice until five,” Louis said with a small frown.

“Oh! Okay,” Harry smiled a little sadly. “That’s okay.”

“…but we’re free after that,” Louis said. He could feel the Liam and Niall’s eyes on him. “Aren’t we, lads?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in challenge at them. Liam and Zayn exchanged a sly glance that Louis refused to acknowledge.

Niall shrugged. “Sure, why not? Lads?”

“Yeah, Harry, we’ll be there,” Zayn said with a fond smile. Liam nodded his assent.

“Really? Thanks!” Harry exclaimed. “We’ll bring food,” he promised Niall, who was polishing off the last of his chips.

“Wey hey, H, I’m in,” he said, raising his carton of milk in salute.

Just like that, the group had their first photography project sorted.

*

A week later, Harry and Perrie were in the school photo lab processing their project. (Harry had impressed her with his film-rolling skills, and when asked how he learned it so well, he’d just shrugged and said, “Practice,” and absolutely did not think about the way Louis had molded himself so perfectly to Harry’s back that day when they’d tried it together. Harry was calling it “Filmpocalpypse.” It was the wanking material of dreams. Perrie had just smirked like she knew exactly how that practice went down.)

Perrie was working at the condenser enlarger, making prints from their negatives, and Harry processed them in the developing solution. He used a pair of rubber-ended tongs to lift out a print from their photo shoot picnic and put it in the stop bath, a tray of water. Harry watched the timer as the photo soaked. Louis was going to come by after football practice to walk him home at half five.

It was movie night. Mum was making tacos.

Perrie’s mix tape was playing on the stereo in the corner, an eclectic mix of Nirvana, the Fugees, and Ella Fitzgerald. They were singing along with Lauryn Hill to “Killing Me Softly” as they worked. Harry was completely smitten, or as much as he could be when his heart belonged to Louis. Perrie was pretty, and fun, and fit seamlessly into their group of friends, but. Well, _Louis._ Louis was gorgeous and loving and made little sparks erupt in Harry’s stomach when he looked at him. It was that simple.

Or, it would be, if Louis even knew he existed.

“I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd,” Perrie sang in a crystal-clear alto.

Harry swayed to the music as he switched the photo to the fixer tray, the next round of chemicals. He examined the black-and-white image in the tray, one of Niall hanging upside-down on the monkey bars mid-laugh. He had been reenacting the hot pepper incident of grade six for a cackling Perrie and Leigh Anne.

“I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on,” Harry chimed in, and Perrie grinned over her shoulder at him.

“Strumming my pain with his fingers, singin my life with his words,” they sang in unison. “Killing me softly with his song, killing me softlyyyyyy, with his song!”

Harry lifted the photo, shiny and slick from chemicals, and placed in in the next tray of hypo-clearing agent. When the song finished, the tape ran out and the stereo prepared to play the other side. There was a companionable silence for a moment.

“So, any plans tonight?” Perrie asked, leaning back in her chair to stretch. Her back popped and she groaned.

“Um, yeah. Dinner and a movie with Lou’s family,” Harry said, carefully placing the finished print under the tap to rinse.

“Fun,” Perrie said, waggling her eyebrows at Harry.

“It’s not a date, Pez,” Harry blushed. “Our entire families will be there.”

“Mhmm.”

“Perrie!”

“What? I said it sounded fun,” she replied, smiling innocently.

A knock sounded at the lab door, and Perrie’s smile grew wicked.

“Who could that be, then?” she asked. Harry blushed despite his best efforts and glared at her.

Harry opened the door and let a freshly-showered Louis in, dressed in clean trackies and a soft blue jumper. He took in the lab equipment and Harry’s pink cheeks curiously.

“Alright, babe? You look a little flushed,” he said stepping closer. Harry’s eyes widened in panic and he shot Perrie a warning look.

“Y-yeah, all good,” Harry answered, running a hand through his hair, and then mentally cursing. His hands were covered in film chemicals. Perrie snickered. Louis greeted her with a friendly wave and rocked on the balls of his feet as she greeted Louis and then said,

“Haz, I’ll put your print in the drying rack when it’s done rinsing, _babe_. Unless you wanted to stay and chat?”

“We were just leaving,” Harry said, blushing furiously as he grabbed his backpack and pulled Louis bodily out the door.

Perrie’s laughter followed them all the way down the corridor.

They got an A- on the project ("A little cliché, but the style is there," Nick said with an approving smile) and Louis added a black-and-white photo of him giving Harry a piggyback ride, both making silly faces, to his wall.

 *

November

 

Louis stood in line at the cinema amidst a horde of teenage girls like a man going to his death. Beside him, Harry was grinning happily.

A girl with braces on her teeth and a Titanic t shirt bumped into Louis on her way past, leaving a cloud of cotton candy perfume.

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Harry,” he vowed solemnly. They’d been waiting in line for two hours.

“C’mon, Lou, the line’s moving!” Harry said, pulling Louis forward to his doom. Aka, _Titanic_.

“You know the boat sinks, Haz,” Louis continued, undeterred. A group of girls in front of them turned to shoot him a dirty look. _They all die_ , Louis mouthed at them, and the girls faced forward with a huff.

“Of course, Lou,” Harry replied patiently, fishing in his coat pocket for their tickets. Which he had preordered the day the tickets went on sale and picked up from the box office window as soon as school ended today. And which he would probably frame later, Louis thought to himself.

Of all the boys in the universe, Louis loved this one. Well, not loved, like _that_. Liked. But loved as a friend. He did like him, though; Louis had come to terms with that finally. It was complicated, okay? That’s what Louis told himself as they finally reached the boy taking tickets.

“Enjoy your show,” the theater worker said tonelessly, handing back their ticket stubs. _As if._

Harry handed Louis their popcorn as he pocketed the ticket stubs and led them down the hall to get their seats. If they got strange looks for two boys going to see the film together, Harry either didn’t notice--or most likely didn’t care.

“It’s not too late,” Louis pleaded as the previews began once they were seated. Harry ignored him.

“Harry. Harold. Please,” Louis whined.

“We are watching this film, _Lewis_ ,” Harry muttered as he watched the screen. He crossed his arms in finality.

When the stock footage of the Titanic setting sail flickered across the screen, Harry squirmed excitedly in his seat and grinned at Louis, eyes shining turquoise in the screen’s glow. He curled up awkwardly in the seat and leaned toward Louis instinctively, making those tingles spread through Louis’ body again, _shit_ , and Louis bid his sanity bon voyage.

When Rose and Jack were floating on an ornate headboard in the icy Atlantic, even Louis started to tear up.

 _"Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me. It brought me to you,"_ a shivering Jack was saying on screen. Louis bit his lip. He was not going to cry at this. Beside him, Harry had been sniffling for the past ten minutes, clutching Louis' hand.

 _"...Never let go,"_ Jack insisted.

 _"I'll never let go, Jack. I'll never let go,"_ Rose choked out, and Harry couldn't take anymore. He buried his face in Louis' shoulder and cried. Louis wrapped his arm around the boy and wiped at his own eyes while the theater echoed with sobs. Harry looked up at him with tears clinging to his dark lashes, cheeks wet, and Louis had never wanted anyone so bad in his life. On screen, a hypothermic Rose blew weakly on her whistle, and Harry's face crumpled into fresh tears.   _Jesus, this fucking film_ , Louis thought helplessly. They were never watching this again.

He was wrong, of course.

*****

1999

 

“Take it back, Louis,” a fifteen-year-old Harry insisted, hands on his hips and frowning. Now an inch taller than Louis, Harry looked down in challenge.

“I most certainly won’t,” Louis fired back, leaning against the bedpost in Harry’s room with his arms crossed.

They had been talking about what to watch for their next movie night, which had become a solely Harry and Louis tradition now that Gemma had graduated and Louis’ sisters were too cool to hang out with them. Harry wanted to watch _Ten Things I Hate about You,_ and Louis wanted to watch _The Mummy._ He didn’t see why this was even an issue for Harry, because _mummies._ Way cooler than whiny American teenage girls.

Louis had simply remarked that Harry might possibly have a slightly poor taste in films sometimes. To which Harry had argued back with a list of movies Louis had picked that had sucked. Okay, so _Alien 3_ hadn’t been his finest moment, but _Batman and Robin_ hadn’t sucked that bad. And Harry knew Louis had a soft spot for George Clooney. It had just escalated from there. Louis criticized _Armageddon_ to get even because Harry had his own soft spot for Liv Tyler.

So it wasn’t a surprise that minutes after Harry asked Louis to take it back, they had ended up wrestling instead. And here they were, rolling around and cursing on the hardwood floor in Harry’s room. Because they were mature.

Harry was still clumsy and uncoordinated, but he was bigger now, so Louis was at a disadvantage if he got pinned. But he caught a break when Harry banged his head on the edge of his bedframe and got distracted. Louis pounced, pinning him down on the soft rug beside the bed.

“I win.”

Harry groaned, massaging his sore head.

“Now, what’s my prize? Besides you admitting I have the superior film taste,” Louis said smugly.

Harry grinned up at him, panting and flushed with exertion. “I let you win.”

“Right. _Louieee, ok, you win! I give up_!” he squealed in a mocking voice.

Harry huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “I do not sound like that.”

Louis merely tickled his ribs with deft fingers until they were both laughing breathlessly.

“Ok. OK! Whatever you want, Lou,” Harry mumbled shyly, not quite meeting his eyes. Deferring to Louis like usual, only this time…when Harry chanced a look up, there was heat in his gaze. Louis had the sudden urge to tie Harry up and tease him until he was begging to come.

Which, woah. Where did that come from? Nevertheless, he could handle being in charge.

“How about I just sit here and write my victory speech, Haz?” he asked playfully, coming up on his hands and knees to bracket Harry’s bigger body beneath his smaller one. Louis gave him a playful eskimo kiss. “Since you let me win and all.”

Louis couldn’t help the way his voice dropped huskily as he spoke. His lips brushed Harry’s ear, and the soft baby curls around it, making the boy shudder.

Harry’s breath hitched and his legs shifted helplessly under Louis. He gulped audibly, then took a deep breath. He could have thrown Louis off if he wanted to, with his bigger, puberty-enhanced lanky body.

But the thing was, Louis noted with amazement, he didn’t. In fact, Harry seemed to go completely pliant underneath him. Then he let out the breath he was holding and sighed,

“Lou.”

All the air seemed to go out of the room at his voice. Louis stared in wonder at his best friend. His cheeks were a lovely shade of pink now, lips bitten until they were plump and red. Sweat dotted his forehead and above his lip from their impromptu wrestling. He was beautiful. Louis threaded his fingers through Harry’s soft curls thoughtfully, making his eyes flutter shut. Louis didn’t know where this was coming from, but he couldn’t stop himself. He nuzzled the side of Harry’s face, then the soft, warm skin of his neck as he continued to stroke his hair. Any other day, with anyone else Louis would be embarrassed by the way he inhaled the boy’s scent. As it was…

“I’ll do anything you want,” he said tenderly. Harry blinked up at him dazedly, green eyes glassy in the late afternoon light. When he didn’t respond, Louis carefully pinned one long arm over his head and squeezed his wrist gently. “Or maybe I’ll just tell you what to do.”

It was impossible to miss the way Harry gasped at that.

“Hmm,” Louis said, trailing his eyes down the pale column of Harry’s throat. His finger traced thoughtfully over Harry’s Adam’s apple, feeling him swallow in reflex.

Just following his gut now, Louis tugged experimentally at his curls.

“Answer me.”

Harry’s hips jerked off the floor in response, knocking into Louis’.

He went to pull impatiently at Harry’s hair again, only for the boy to blurt out:

“ _Yes_ , you win, Lou, _god_.” His voice was breathier than before.

Without breaking eye contact, Louis pinned Harry’s free arm above his head, still only gently squeezing the boy’s wrists. He opened his mouth to suggest they rock-paper-scissors it only to notice—Harry was _hard_. A quick glance showed he was straining against his thin trackies. Jesus, Harry was big. Louis was absolutely stunned he’d had such an effect on him.

Harry seemed to take Louis’ surprise as disapproval, because he hastily began to apologize and squirm away.

“Sorry, I um…” he shifted uncomfortably, cheeks flaming pink now. Louis felt his own cock twitch in interest, and he quickly moved off Harry to sit on the floor. Harry blushed and mumbled something about going to check the lasagna in the oven, and hurried out of the room without looking at Louis. Leaving Louis turned on and confused in his best friend’s bedroom floor, listening to his retreating footsteps.

Louis had to get laid.

*

Later that night, Louis called Zayn in a panic, and Zayn talked him down enough to assure him there was a guy who might want to go out with him if Louis would chill the fuck out. Louis took the guy’s phone number and nervously called.

The guy was nice, and joked with Louis about their maths teacher, and they went bowling and ate greasy pizza together. When they kissed outside the bowling alley, Louis was relieved he smelled nothing like Harry.

So there were guys. It never became serious, because Louis always broke it off, but word got out around school that Louis was dating them. Harry felt it like a knife to the heart every time someone came up to him and asked if he and Louis were dating, because they’d heard, someone had told them, someone _saw_ …and if he cried to Perrie and Zayn, who were on-again, off-again, it never got around to Louis.

Harry could now be found most nights in the photography lab, working on prints or chatting with Nick, carrying around a leather-bound journal which he showed to no one. He didn’t plan on seeing Louis every day after school anymore, which made it easier when he ended up alone. Except he never seemed to get a moment alone. Zayn would hang out in the classroom outside the lab, smoking by an open window, sketching in a notebook; Liam called him up at home to go running or to the gym, where they talked about nothing important; Perrie, Jesy and Leigh Anne came over with _Cosmo_ magazines and wine coolers on Friday nights and gossiped about their classmates while they did nails and watched _Clueless_ because it was Harry’s favorite. Even Niall stopped by the photo lab when Harry had been holed up for hours, experimenting with different exposures and developing techniques, to take him to McDonald’s and the park.

And Harry never mentioned how he felt or breathed a word of it to Louis.

So when Louis had to cut their hang-out time short to go on a date, he took Harry’s weak smile and sad eyes as a boy missing his best friend.

Their friends watched warily as everything played out, but until Harry spoke up about his feelings or Louis got his head out of his arse and stopped dating other people, there was nothing they could do.

*

The problem was, Louis realized when he had been dating a nice guy named Greg for about two weeks, was that people never committed to Louis, either. He didn’t hold hands with his “boyfriends” at school or bring them round for dinner, and definitely didn’t introduce them to Harry. And in return, they didn’t admit they were in a relationship. Most of them didn’t even admit they were gay.

And that was fine, Louis guessed. It wasn’t great, but he supposed that’s how relationships worked. He got along well with the boys he dated, and parted amicably. Louis’ only rule was that they date exclusively. He refused to date someone who was openly playing the field. People might have been surprised, but Louis had standards.

So when he found Greg making out at a party with Aiden Grimshaw, he was upset. Well, furious, if the way he pushed Greg away when he went after Louis and tried to apologize was any indication.

“Are you dating him?” Louis exclaimed, rounding on a tipsy Greg.

“No! It’s not a big deal, Lou, we’re just friends,” Greg insisted. “He’s nothing.”

Louis was surprised to find tears pricking his eyes. “Neither are we,” he replied, gesturing between Greg and himself. Louis ignored his now-ex-boyfriend’s drunken apologies as he grabbed his coat and walked out the door. His feet carried him to Harry’s door before he even realized what he’d done.

It was 2:00 in the morning. Anne’s car wasn’t in the driveway; Louis recalled she was visiting Gemma at university.

The door opened and a sleep-rumpled Harry squinted out into the darkness.

“Lou?” he rasped, taking in the boy standing on his front step for the first time in over a week.

At the nickname, Louis felt the tears fall this time. He sniffled softly, but Harry heard. His sleepy eyes widened in alarm, and he wordlessly pulled Louis through the door. Once inside, Louis couldn’t meet Harry’s eyes. Harry just wrapped his arms around the boy, hugging him tight, and Louis broke down in tears.

Because he was upset, really was mad as hell at Greg and embarrassed, but he was relieved. Louis inhaled the familiar scent of his best friend, felt the way their bodies locked together like puzzle pieces, and he felt the tension snap and release as he melted into Harry’s arms. He realized he had been a miserable friend. He had barely spoken to Harry in days besides short conversations at lunch. And now he just showed up out of the blue to cry about a party Harry hadn’t even gone to.

That brought on a fresh round of tears, and Harry just held him like he wasn’t even fazed by this turn of events. Maybe he wasn’t. Harry murmured something reassuring into his hair and led him over to the couch. Harry motioned for him to sit, and Louis folded himself up to wrap his arms around his knees. Harry settled in next to him and put an arm around Louis’ shoulders.

Louis made it 14 seconds before he caved and snuggled in close next to Harry, burying his face in the boy’s faded sleep shirt. Only then did Harry wrap his arms around Louis again, holding him tight but so carefully. No boys ever held Louis like that.

“Breathe, Lou,” Harry soothed, running his large hands up and down Louis’ back. Louis took a few shallow breaths before he finally calmed down. He rested his ear against Harry’s chest, listening to the reassuring, steady sound of his heart, and tried to match his breathing with Harry’s. They had done this before, but it had always been Louis wrapped around Harry, whispering soothing words to him.

Harry felt Louis gradually relax in his arms as their breathing synced. But he didn’t let go. Maybe it was selfish, but he had Louis in his arms now, and who knew when the next time would be. Harry was hurt, but so was Louis. He didn’t see the need to keep score.

Harry just reached for the worn, blue quilt on the back of the sofa and stretched out across the sofa, tucking a sniffling, pliant Louis into his side before he covered them and waited for Louis to fall asleep.

*

Harry woke a few hours later to find early morning sun streaming through the windows and a sleeping Louis in his arms. They had shifted in the night, just like they always did, and now Harry was spooned up against Louis’ back, their legs tangled together under the blanket.

After a few moments, Harry carefully disentangled himself and went to put on the tea. He went over the events of the night before, the way Louis had shown up unannounced at his doorstep, dressed like he’d gone out. He must’ve had a row with Greg. Harry hated that he even knew Louis’ boyfriend’s name, how pathetic that made him, when he himself had no one. It was too early for this. Harry began gathering the ingredients for a fry up, figuring a hot breakfast might be a good start to figuring out what was going on.

Half an hour later, Harry walked back into the lounge to find Louis beginning to stir. He went back into the kitchen to retrieve Louis’ tea and cautiously sat down at the other end of the couch.

Louis smiled at him sleepily for a moment in the quiet.

“Hi,” he said hoarsely.

“Hi,” Harry returned with a small smile. “Tea?”

“Please,” Louis asked, sitting up. The blanket pooled around his waist. Harry handed him the cup and went back to the kitchen to bring out breakfast. He juggled the plates carefully as he walked back to Louis.

"You wanna talk about it?" Harry asked as he set the breakfast down on the coffee table.

Louis shook his head wordlessly, eyes fixed on the teacup in his lap. He was sat cross-legged on the other side of the couch with his hands tucked up in the long sleeves of his jumper, eyes puffy, looking small and fragile.

Harry nodded patiently, although Louis wasn't looking, and began digging into his breakfast. When he realized Louis hadn’t made a move for his plate, Harry slowly pushed it toward him with his fork.

"Thanks," Louis whispered shyly. His fingers peeked out of the sweater and reached for the plate.

Louis only poked at his food, and finally he turned hesitantly to Harry.

“I’m sorry, Haz,” he said, biting his lip.

“Lou—“

“No, Harry, listen. I’ve been a shit friend this year, and I miss you. And I’ve slagged my way through half the school trying to find someone to replace you—“

“Louis!” Harry protested, but Louis plodded on.

“But I can’t. Because you’re irreplaceable.”

Harry’s eyes flickered uncertainly to Louis.

“And I’m sorry.” Louis’ eyes filled with tears for the second time in 24 hours, and he brushed them away impatiently. “C-Can you forgive me?” he asked in barely a whisper. “I understand if—“

But he was cut off by the feel of Harry’s fingers carefully wiping the tears from his cheeks. His whole body ached from the touch, so desperate to feel Harry’s arms around him again. But…

“Yes.” Harry said raggedly with a tell-tale sniffle. Louis held his breath, not daring to hope Harry could ever forgive him. He couldn’t meet Harry’s eyes.

Harry huffed out a watery laugh at his stubbornness.

“Look at me, Lou.”

Slowly, Louis looked up to meet the green eyes he’d come to love so much, now puffy and red from crying—but still the most beautiful he’d ever seen.

“Of course I forgive you; I love you,” Harry said slowly. Impossibly, he was smiling. Louis could only stare as one big, gentle hand wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“The question is,” Harry continued, “can you forgive yourself?”

Louis stared into Harry’s eyes, taking in the familiar green he had loved for a decade. He felt something in his heart click into place.

“Yeah,” Louis whispered, smiling softly.

"Okay then," Harry smiled. And they were.

*****

2000

 

Louis got his driver's license, and when summer came, Harry and Louis spent a lot of sleepless nights driving through the dark streets with the windows down. Louis had been single for a few months, and spent more time with his friends. And most importantly, with Harry. Slowly but surely, they were mending their relationship. Everything about Harry fascinated Louis. The way his curls fell into his eyes. The strange journal he carried everywhere with the words, "One and Only" scrawled cryptically on the cover. The way he'd bite his lip in concentration when he lined up a shot on his camera.

Sometimes they listened to music, and sometimes they drove in silence. And Louis felt whole again.

*

It was movie night again.

Harry was acting strangely. Louis had agreed to watch _Titanic_ with him, with minimal complaints, so he didn't understand why Harry was acting off. Harry had set out the snacks and paused the movie at the opening credits when he finally caved.

"Louis?"

"Yeah, Haz?"

"Can I ask you something?"

“Anything,” was Louis’ immediate response. He tried to get Harry, suddenly shy, to meet his eyes. When he didn’t, Louis lifted his chin carefully with his fingers until Harry looked up.

“Louis, can you forgive me?”

Louis eyes almost popped out in confusion.

“I, um. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before…how I felt. About you.”

Louis shook his head in protest, but Harry silenced him with a finger to his lips. Louis felt a hot jolt run through him at the contact. _Focus_ , he thought.

“I knew…maybe I’ve always known it was you,” he said, biting his lip. “But you liked other guys, and you seemed so happy. I just. I told myself if you were happy, that’s all that matters—"

Louis’ heart shattered into a million pieces at that, and at the way Harry’s voice hitched.

“…but after a while, you _weren’t_ happy, and I was too concerned with my own… _whatever_ to see it,” he concluded miserably.

He opened his mouth to continue, but Louis cut him off.

“’S not your fault, love. I’m ok.”

“Are you?” Harry asked hesitantly, stroking Louis’ cheek before resting it on his shoulder. Louis nodded and smiled softly.

“Yes. Are _we_ ok?”

For a moment, there was silence as the two boys assessed each other. Then Harry smiled, a slow, wide smile that showed his dimples. He nodded once, and Louis let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He opened his arms wordlessly, and Harry sank into his embrace with a sigh. Louis marveled at the way they fit together. It felt familiar, but there was an undercurrent of desire in their touch now. Who knows how long they sat there wrapped up in each other’s arms, Louis’ fingers stroking through Harry’s soft curls and Harry slowly running his hands up and down the smaller boy’s back.

“I love you,” Harry mumbled, dropping a kiss onto Louis' hair. Louis tightened his arms around him in response.

“Love you too, Haz,” he replied. Harry didn’t speak, only stared intently at Louis’ mouth. He bit his lip and darted his eyes to Louis’ for a moment, his gaze a mix of uncertainty and longing.

Louis waited for Harry to say anything else for a moment. But Harry remained silent, looking more unsure by the minute. Louis took action then, unable to stand seeing his best friend so uncertain. He crowded closer, lacing his fingers with Harry’s until the boy stumbled backwards. Louis pressed him carefully back against the couch, and pinned Harry with a heated stare.

“Yeah, Haz?” he asked softly, pinning one arm carefully against the wall. “You want me to kiss you?”

His other hand stroked soothingly across Harry’s cheek and full bottom lip. He noted the way the boy’s breath hitched and his eyes fluttered closed at the contact. Harry was so responsive, and he was barely even touching him.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” He watched as his best friend’s eyes blinked open and focused hazily on him, the familiar green now glassy under the muted television's glow.

Louis leaned closer, now having to look up at the taller boy. He could feel the body heat radiating off Harry, smell the familiar scent of film developing solution and Anne’s washing powder and _boy_ that he’s always associated with him. Harry’s hand tightened around his, big and warm, and he blinked slowly. Louis waited a minute for him to speak. He was going to do this right—not going to pressure Harry or rush him. His own heart sped up at the thought. _Harry. He was kissing Harry...finally._

“Y-yeah,” Harry stuttered breathlessly, eyes darting from Louis’ mouth to his eyes and back.

“What’s the magic word?” Louis teased huskily, eyes twinkling.

Harry huffed out a shy laugh, but curled one hand lightly around Louis’ where it was still cupping his cheek, and nuzzled into the touch.

“Please?” he whispered with a blush, wide eyes flickering to his.

When his green eyes met Louis’ blue, he couldn’t help the fond smile that took over his face. This beautiful boy, who he’s seen on a million different days, happy and sad and awkward and always, _always_ gentle, still wanted him. _Harry_. Always loving and trusting. Louis might love him a lot.

Harry bit his lip nervously watching Louis watch him. After a few moments where Harry imagined time actually stood still, he murmured, “Lou.”

Louis snapped out of his musing at Harry’s voice. “Shh, babe.” He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth, lingering for a moment.

Harry gasped softly and let his eyes drift shut. “I’ve got you,” Louis repeated as he skimmed his lips across Harry’s. Then he kissed him properly, marveling at the feel of plump, soft lips he’s always loved. And this time, time really did stand still, Louis thought.

If there was one thing Louis had learned, it was not to rush a first kiss. Even if it weren’t a rule, Louis would make one for kissing Harry. Now that they were finally doing it, he was going to make it last. His lips pressed gently against Harry’s and just stayed there for a moment. The hand that had one of Harry’s pinned against the arm of the couch slotted their fingers together and squeezed gently. This close, he could feel Harry’s quickened breathing and warm, soft breaths. With his other hand, Louis cupped the side of Harry’s throat, awed by the pulse hammering faster beneath it. He slowly pulled away after a beat, his thumb feathering over Harry’s pulse. Everything about the boy was warm and beautiful, and Louis stared from beneath his lashes for a moment, basking in his glow. Harry’s eyes were closed, dark lashes fanning his flushed cheeks. His pink lips trembled a little under Louis’ gaze.

Louis kissed him again, loving the jolt that ran through him where they were connected. His lips moved slowly, just feeling Harry. And it was the best feeling in the world.

*****

Present Day, 2014. 6:30 a.m.

 

Harry rinsed the metal reel for the film he took yesterday and set it in the drainer by the sink.

Tomorrow was Louis’ birthday. Harry was surprising him with prints from their trip to the park with their adopted daughter Evie...and a simple platinum engagement ring.

He filled a plastic pitcher of water and dropped a long thermometer inside to gauge when it reached 68 degrees Fahrenheit. Then he measured out the amount of developer solution he’d need. He tied his hair back in a practiced motion with a lime green elastic, then opened the little film canister on the counter. He grabbed a pair of scissors from his workstation and placed them beside the film. Harry hummed under his breath with “Angels” by The xx as he checked the water temperature—70 degrees—and slowly turned on the warm water tap to add a little more. He stirred the thermometer deftly—69 degrees—and then stretched his back with a series of pops while he waited. When the thermometer finally read 68 degrees, Harry filled an aluminum film canister that Louis called his cocktail mixer (“I know what you’re really doing in there, Harold”) and turned off the red light, immersing the room in darkness. He slowly unwound the film from its plastic roll and carefully cut the end, severing it from its packaging. He reached for the metal reel and delicately began wrapping the film around it, careful not to let the negatives touch and potentially blur the finished images. In absolute darkness, he moved by feel as he double checked his wrapping before he dropped the reel into the aluminum canister and screwed the lid on tightly. He still remembered how long it had taken his clumsy fingers to get the hang of winding the film, and then how long it took him to achieve it in complete darkness. He thought of the man curled upstairs in their duvet, sleeping peacefully, and the boy who had steadied his hands when he fumbled and told him to keep trying. It hadn't been easy. But like most difficult things in Harry's life, it was so worth it.

 

End

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis' baby is growing up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Ivette, who continues to inspire me from long-distance. Always in my heart, yours sincerely,
> 
> 1Diamondinthesun xx

Harry Styles had a problem.

Well, not a problem per se. He had a great, supportive family, he was doing well in Professor “call me Nick” Grimshaw’s photography class, and he had the best boyfriend in the world. Hands down.

Harry still couldn’t believe it sometimes: Louis Tomlinson was his boyfriend. It was like a dream come true.

They still went to and from school together, and still had movie night every week. The only difference was, now when they cuddled on the couch, Louis would press little kisses to the side of Harry’s face and hair to cheer him up when he cried. (Inevitably, they ended up watching Harry’s choices, which were romantic tearjerkers that left Harry sniffling into the collar of Louis’ shirt.)

Basically, Harry had a—let’s call it a _dilemma_. Yes, that was a better word. A dilemma. A quite simple one, really.

Harry wanted to have sex with Louis. And Louis wasn’t having it.

…literally.

No matter how heated their kisses got leaning across the console in Louis’ car after school or pressed against the door of the darkroom, inevitably Louis would pull back. Harry could sense the moment Louis began to back off, his kisses gentling and slowing to tender pecks as he got his breathing under control.

Once he literally stepped back, putting actual distance between them in the hallway outside Harry’s geography class. Louis had laughed nervously, running his hand through his fringe in a tell-tale sign of uncertainty, and then waved awkwardly in farewell. Harry had no idea what he was afraid of. Deep down, he wondered if there was something wrong with him that repelled Louis from getting any closer.

It was like no matter how much they loved each other, Louis was just not ready—or willing—to take the next step with Harry.

*

Movie night found Harry and Louis curled up on the couch, watching _Gladiator._ Harry had his face buried in Louis’  t shirt (where it had been for most of the movie) (sue him, Louis smelled good) as Maximus entered the arena. The heavy sounds of battle made Harry flinch, and concerned, Louis pushed the pause button.

“Alright, babe?” he asked, turning to face Harry in the faint blue light of the TV screen, eyes worried.

“Yeah, yeah!” Harry assured Louis with a nervous laugh. “We can watch it.”

Louis rolled his eyes fondly and pointedly clicked the stop button, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. He poked Harry’s cheek until his favorite dimple appeared. Harry ducked his head shyly and began to apologize. But Louis insisted it was fine.

“I’d rather hear about your day instead. How did your developing go this afternoon? Photos turn out ok?” Louis asked, turning to sit cross-legged on the couch facing Harry. His blue eyes were intent on Harry’s as he nudged him with a socked foot, leaving the other boy flushing with pleasure. Because of course Louis remembered the photo project Harry had been worried about that day at lunch.

It was like Harry’s brain short-circuited. He didn’t think as he launched himself into Louis’ arms, tackling him back across the couch. Louis let out a huff of surprise as his arms came up to wrap around him. It’d been awhile since he’d been Harry-tackled. Said boy was currently planting kisses all over Louis’ face, talking.

“You are the best—“ (kiss) “boyfriend—“ (kiss) “ever,” Harry murmured, brushing a shy kiss over Louis’ lips.

Louis smiled until his eyes crinkled at the corners and his cheeks hurt. He had a lapful of happy Harry and the house to himself while mum and the girls were visiting their grandmother that weekend. He intended to treat Harry to a movie marathon and pancakes for breakfast tomorrow. But for now…

Louis threaded his fingers through Harry’s curls, gently scratching at his scalp.

“Hi,” he whispered. Harry leaned into the touch and purred happily, getting lost in the sensation. He blinked his eyes open slowly, and oh--Louis, right. Louis’ house, movie night. Louis.

“Hi.”

“Alright, love?” Louis asked.

Harry ducked his head and nodded, suddenly feeling foolish for his rash display of affection. God, he was such a teenager. He squirmed on Louis’ lap, biting his lip.

Louis pressed a kiss to Harry’s lips and pulled back. Harry didn’t meet his eyes. So Louis tugged gently at his curls, raising Harry’s face to his own. Harry’s jaw dropped, and the sensation went straight to his cock. This time when Louis leaned closer to kiss him, Harry met him halfway. He tried to ignore the way he was getting hard in his jeans, but…Louis was just so hot. Everything about him, from his gentle hands stroking Harry’s hair to his strong biceps flexing with each movement, to his soft lips caressing his own.

Louis licked into his mouth in a smooth motion, stroking Harry’s tongue. One hand slipped from his curls down the side of his face, and Louis cupped his jaw in a warm hand. Then it trailed down the column of Harry’s throat, glancing over his racing pulse before it skimmed down the curve of his back. The sensation raised goosebumps on Harry’s skin and he sighed into their kiss. Sometimes Louis liked to tease, tongue caressing Harry’s and then pulling back, making him chase for more.

Not tonight.

Harry felt a slight pressure against his lower back where Louis rested his hand, guiding him forward as Louis sank back against the couch cushions. Harry braced his hands on either side of Louis’ shoulders, never breaking the kiss as he followed him down. He only hesitated for a moment before Louis pulled Harry’s full weight down on top of him.

Louis shifted to get comfortable, tangling their legs together, and the motion positioned Harry’s hardening cock against Louis’ hip. Louis continued kissing him, sucking Harry’s tongue into his mouth still tasting vaguely of sugary candy from the movie. He couldn’t help but think about Louis sucking something else into that hot mouth, skilled tongue working up and down his length. A whimper escaped Harry’s lips at the thought, and he tried to subtly shift his hips back.

Louis tightened his hold on Harry’s waist in response, and oh god, Harry was completely hard now. He was bound to notice. This was usually the point where Louis began backing off, trying to control his desire. But Louis rolled his hips up into Harry’s and groaned softly at the friction. Louis was hard. Harry was almost dizzy with the knowledge that even Louis was losing control. He registered the firm but gentle hand at his back, warm lips now sucking at his own as Louis panted into his mouth, and the hard shape of Louis’ cock against the side of his belly. Harry shifted minutely, until their cocks aligned through their clothes, and whined low in his throat. He could…he could _come_ like this.

“L-Lou,” he moaned into the other boy’s mouth as he ground experimentally against Louis. At that same moment, Louis rocked his hips up just so. Harry saw stars. Yesyesyes, he thought hazily.

Abruptly, the movement ceased. He felt Louis’ chest expand under his in a deep breath, and then a hand was curling around Harry’s hip, stopping his motion. _Nonono_. No. Harry tried to buck against Louis feebly, desperate for friction to his aching cock, but to no avail.

“Sorry,” Louis laughed breathlessly, stroking Harry’s hair back out of his face. “Got a little carried away.”

And, what?! Why? Harry wondered. He let his head thunk down on Louis’ shoulder and sighed pitifully, but it didn’t stop Louis from subtly shifting his hips away and distractedly reaching for the remote control.

Could you die from an erection?

*

Harry might have been a virgin, but he wasn’t dumb. If Louis needed some persuasion to go further with Harry, then Harry would persuade him. He knew how to charm; Louis said it was one of his best qualities. So for school on day one of Operation: Deflower Harry (Niall had picked the name, against Harry’s protests) Harry wore his favorite green polo and Louis’ gray sweater. On his way out the door, he spotted a beanie Louis had left when he came over yesterday. Might as well.

When he walked out to Louis’ waiting car and kissed him hello, Louis raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. There was just something about Harry in his clothes; the way his curls framed his face with the beanie on, and the way the sleeves of the jumper were just a hair too short…he snapped out of it and carefully rearranged the hat so it was straight, then said as casually as possible, “new look today?”

Harry blushed and bit back a smile. “D’you like it? Is it ok if I wear it?”

Louis just insisted he looked lovely and he could wear his clothes anytime, and that was that.

Or so Harry thought.

By the end of the day, after watching Harry walk around all day in his clothes, sitting next to him at lunch while Harry ate an entire banana while maintaining innocent eye contact, Louis was about to snap. After footie practice, he jogged across campus to the photography lab. Harry’s bag was the only one lying on the bench outside the workroom, so Louis knocked once in warning and then burst through the door. Harry’s back was turned to him, headphones on as he stood in front of a tray of developing chemicals. Louis took a deep breath to calm his racing pulse and tapped Harry on the shoulder.

Harry whirled around, eyes wide and a pair of tongs in one hand and his discman in the other. Louis bet anything he was listening to the Shania Twain CD, the sap. _Focus._

“Lou?” Harry rasped, voice scratchy from disuse in the deserted lab.

Louis didn’t reply, but carefully slid the headphones off Harry’s head and placed the CD player on the table behind him. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Louis held up a hand in warning. Harry frowned like an adorable disgruntled kitten, but reluctantly turned his eyes to Louis.

“You think you can just,” Louis began, pointing a finger at Harry’s chest. _Wearing Louis’ jumper_. “Just walk around in my clothes and expect me not to be affected? Do you have any idea,” he said, carefully pressing his finger against Harry’s chest, “what you look like right now?” He skimmed his finger up to Harry’s throat, feeling his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

Harry stared, jaw hanging slightly open, and shook his head wordlessly. A faint blush was creeping up his neck and across his cheeks, and his green eyes were round with surprise.

“Like you’re mine,” Louis said, stepping closer.

He pressed Harry back against the table where he’d been working and caged him in with his arms. He brushed a kiss across Harry’s full lips. _“Mine.”_   Louis kissed him deeper this time, sliding his tongue along the curve of Harry’s bottom lip, then the top. He sucked a gentle kiss to each before stepping back a fraction of an inch.

“I-I am yours,” Harry said breathlessly, closing the distance between their mouths again with a soft kiss.

“Hmm,” Louis whispered, leaving a trail of kisses across Harry’s cheek and down behind his ear. He raised his lips to Harry’s ear. “Are you?” Without waiting for an answer, Louis returned to the sensitive spot behind Harry’s ear and sucked gently. Harry gasped and tilted his head to give Louis better access.

“Yes,” Harry replied breathily, dropping the tongs in his hand somewhere on the table beside him. His hands settled on Louis’ hips, pulling him closer. Louis returned to Harry’s lips, this kiss rougher than the last. His hands traced down Harry’s front and came to rest on the waistband of his jeans.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, because yes. _Yes_. Louis’ fingers were inches from where he wanted them, finally. His eyes fluttered open as he heard a strange clicking sound. When his eyes connected with the source of the noise, he gasped. Louis pulled back with a puzzled expression, then followed Harry’s gaze to the CD player where he’d set it on the table behind them.

…in a tray of water.

By the time he got to it, Louis could see the device was clearly done for. _Shit._ He carefully opened the lid and watched as water poured out, while—yes—Shania Twain’s _Come on Over!_ spun slowly inside.

Harry groaned and dropped his head on Louis’ shoulder. The moment, and his favorite CD, were killed.

*

Niall laughed for ten minutes when Harry recounted what happened in the photo lab, and declared they needed a new plan. Zayn peered over his comic book where they were all hanging out in Harry’s room and rolled his eyes.

“The clothes thing worked,” Harry explained, thumbing through his economics book dejectedly. “Life just got in the way.”

“Maybe phase two should involve clothes and alcohol,” Niall mused. “Alcohol always works.”

Zayn scoffed behind his Batman comic.

“You got a better idea?” Niall challenged.

“Isn’t Perrie’s party this weekend?” Harry asked. “There will be plenty of alcohol there!”

“You’re brilliant, Harry!” Niall exclaimed. “No thanks to Zayn.”

So phase two of Operation: Deflower Harry was set to unfold at the party that weekend. Perrie was housesitting while her parents went on holiday for their anniversary. Harry thought it was the perfect opportunity to win over Louis.

Somehow Niall had roped Perrie, Jesy and strangely enough, Liam into joining the operation.

What could go wrong?

*

Perrie’s house was utter chaos when Harry and Louis arrived. Bodies were dancing everywhere, and the music was so loud it vibrated through the floorboards. They spotted Perrie, Zayn and Niall over in the corner by the CD player. “Go ahead, I’ll get us some drinks,” Louis said, nodding in their direction. Harry made his way over to his friends.

“Perrie!” he shouted. “Harry!” she replied, delighted and a little tipsy as she sloshed the contents of her drink. “Alright love?” she asked. Harry nodded, and somehow they launched into discussing the Plan. Which…there wasn’t one exactly, beyond get drunk and hope for the best.

Louis returned with their drinks, and the party officially got underway.

“I don’t know if you know this,” Harry slurred a couple hours later where he was pressed against Louis on the dance floor, “But I’m kind of a great dancer.” He bit his lip mischievously. He had stepped on Louis’ feet more times than the boy could count. Louis trailed his hands feather light up his sides and chest before landing on his broad shoulders. He ground his hips against Harry’s once as Usher’s “Nice and Slow” began to play, and Harry’s breath hitched. Louis leaned closer until his lips brushed the baby curls around his ears.

“Show me what you got, then,” he whispered huskily against the shell of his ear. Harry tightened his grip on Louis’ hips, and they didn’t talk after that.

…until the sudden sound of sirens and a knock at the door sent everyone running in different directions. Louis grabbed Harry’s hand and dragged him into a hall closet full of winter coats while Perrie and Liam explained to the officer that it was just them home alone, studying.

*

“So we didn’t go to jail, at least,” Niall said, shoving half a sandwich in his mouth at lunch the next Monday. Liam shuddered at his horrible manners but refrained from commenting.

It _had_ been kind of exciting being at a party that had been broken up by the police, and by the time Louis and Harry helped Perrie clean up the house and went home, where they collapsed exhausted in Harry’s bed, the mood had pretty thoroughly been killed. So they were back to square one.

“Phase three,” Harry began.

“Of what?” Louis asked, sliding into the seat next to him with his lunch tray. Harry’s eyes widened in panic and he looked helplessly at Niall.

“Of the…photographic process for…cameras built before 1970,” Perrie blurted out. Louis frowned a little at the outburst, then shrugged and turned to Liam to ask him about the upcoming football game.

Harry stared intently at the rest of the Operation: Deflower Harry team, and they looked back hopelessly.

It looked like Harry was on his own.

*

In the end, it happened because of a mix-up at the video store.

It was movie night, and Harry wanted _Chocolat_. Louis wanted _X Men_. Somehow, they ended up with…

“ _Titanic_? Oh God,” Louis groaned as the menu screen popped up. “Not again.”

Harry came in from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and two drinks in the other. “Did you say--?”

Louis turned to level Harry with a threatening look. “I swear to god, Harry if you picked this—“

“What?!”

Setting down the snacks on the coffee table, Harry turned to face Louis. He re-examined the DVD case, which clearly said _X Men_. “They must have put the wrong disc in,” Harry shrugged. “You want to take it back?”

Louis groaned again, thumping his head against the back of the couch. “Of all the movies in the world, it had to be this one.”

“What are the odds, right?” Harry asked cheerfully as he sat down beside Louis. “Since it’s here, why don’t we—“

“No, Harry.”

“It’s already in the DVD player ready to go,” Harry protested.

“You own this movie!” Louis said.

“And yet here it is,” Harry grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s fate.”

“Harry.”

“It was meant to be…just like us!” Harry crowed, poking Louis in the ribs.

“Harry, no.”

“Harry, yes!” he said, and began to sing. _“Near, farrrrrr, wherever you are!”_

“Shut up, Harry,” Louis warned, lunging to tickle Harry back. But Harry sang on undeterred.

_“I believe that the heart does go onnnn—“_

“I’m serious!” Louis exclaimed, but Harry jumped out of reach. He kept singing.

“Ok, that’s it,” Louis declared, stalking towards Harry. Harry giggled and ran towards the stairs, shouting over his shoulder as he disappeared from view, “I’ll never let go, Jack!” Louis could hear his feet clomping up the stairs and ran to chase him.

Harry was going to shut his bedroom door when Louis burst into the room, tackling a still singing Harry to the bed. Finally, miraculously, he shut up.

“I win.” Louis rolled halfway on top of Harry on the cramped twin bed.

“Now, what’s my prize?”

Harry grinned up at him, panting and flushed with exertion. “I let you win.”

“Right.”

Harry huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

Louis merely tickled his ribs with deft fingers until they were both laughing breathlessly.

“Ok. OK! Whatever you want, Lou,” Harry mumbled shyly, not quite meeting his eyes. Deferring to Louis like usual, only this time…when Harry chanced a look up, there was heat in his gaze. Not for the first time, Louis had the sudden urge to tie Harry up and tease him until he was begging to come.

They had been here before.

_“You want me on top, Haz?” he asked playfully, coming up on his hands and knees to bracket Harry’s bigger body beneath his smaller one. He gave him a playful eskimo kiss. “Like this?”_

_Louis couldn’t help the way his voice dropped huskily as he spoke. His lips brushed Harry’s ear, and the soft baby curls around it, making the boy shudder._

_Harry’s breath hitched and his legs shifted helplessly under Louis. He gulped audibly, then took a deep breath. He could have thrown Louis off if he wanted to, with his bigger, puberty-enhanced lanky body._

_But the thing was, Louis noted with amazement, he didn’t. In fact, Harry seemed to go completely pliant underneath him. Then he let out the breath he was holding and sighed,_

_“Lou.”_

_All the air seemed to go out of the room at his voice. Louis stared in wonder at his best friend. His cheeks were a lovely shade of pink now, lips bitten until they were plump and red. Sweat dotted his forehead and above his lip from their impromptu wrestling._

_He was beautiful._

_Louis threaded his fingers through Harry’s soft curls thoughtfully, making his eyes flutter shut. Louis didn’t know where this was coming from, but he couldn’t stop himself. He nuzzled the side of Harry’s face, then the soft, warm skin of his neck as he continued to stroke his hair. Any other day, with anyone else Louis would be embarrassed by the way he inhaled the boy’s scent and scattered gentle kisses to his throat. As it was…_

_“I’ll do anything you want,” he said tenderly. Harry blinked up at him dazedly, green eyes glassy in the late afternoon light. When he didn’t respond, Louis carefully pinned one long arm over his head and squeezed his wrist gently. “Or maybe I’ll tell you what to do.”_

_It was impossible to miss the way Harry gasped at that._

_“Hmm,” Louis said, trailing his lips down the pale column of Harry’s throat. His tongue licked teasingly over Harry’s Adam’s apple, feeling him swallow in reflex._

_Just following his gut now, Louis tugged experimentally at his curls._

_“Answer me.”_

_Harry’s hips jerked off the bed in response, knocking into Louis’._

_Interesting._

_He went to pull impatiently at Harry’s hair again, only for the boy to blurt out:_

_“Yes, please do it, Lou, god.” His voice was breathier than before._

_Without breaking eye contact, Louis pinned Harry’s free arm above his head, still only gently squeezing the boy’s wrists._

Now, Louis felt the rapid pulse in his boyfriend’s delicate wrists. He shifted minutely on Harry’s rumpled blue duvet. This time, he didn’t have to hold back. He knew Harry was ready, and just as importantly, so was he.

“When does your mum get home?” Louis asked softly, not wanting to break the spell he had going. He placed a soothing kiss on Harry’s forehead and stroked the pale skin of his wrists with his thumbs. As if on cue, Harry’s body reacted to Louis touch, going pliant again.

“Um, ten,” Harry replied, unblinking. Louis ground slightly against him in reward.

“Gemma?” Louis pressed, brushing another kiss on first one cheek, then the other.

“Friend’s house.”

Louis looked over his shoulder at the closed door for reassurance. He knew Anne loved him, but somehow he didn’t think she’d appreciate seeing him on top of her son. Satisfied, he turned back to Harry only to notice—Harry was _hard_. A quick glance showed he was straining against his thin trackies.

Harry seemed to take his surprise as disapproval, because he hastily began to apologize and squirm away.

“Sorry, I um…” he shifted uncomfortably, cheeks flaming pink now.

Louis had barely touched him. Oh god, this was going to be good. Louis’ own cock twitched in interest.

“Shh, love. Nothing to be sorry about,” Louis murmured, grinding against him again for emphasis. “I like it.”

Harry bit his lip and looked up at Louis from under his lashes. Louis slowly pulled the lip caught between Harry’s teeth until it released, slick and red. So pretty.

Louis carefully pressed his lips to Harry’s, marveling at the softness. Harry sighed and tilted his head back for another kiss, and then another. He kissed Harry more carefully than he had ever kissed anyone, almost reverently. And, well. That was appropriate, he guessed. Harry was an angel. An angel with a huge erection, unfortunately fully clothed. But details.

Louis took his time, kissing him over and over until Harry was gasping and opening his mouth for him. And when Harry’s hot, slick tongue touched his, _he_ was the one to gasp. A thrill ran through his body, and he gripped Harry’s trapped wrists tighter. Harry moaned softly and let Louis explore his mouth, the picture of submission, and fuck. He had always been able to boss Harry around, loving the way he easily handed over control, but he never thought Harry actually…

Liked it.

Like, _liked it_ , liked it. The thought had Louis nearly coming in his pants, and he had to pull back for a moment. But the sight of Harry, eyes closed, lips wet and swollen from his kisses didn’t do much to help matters.

After a moment when Louis didn’t return to his lips, Harry’s eyes fluttered open in confusion.

“Lou?”

Louis rocked his hips against his in explanation, rubbing his hardening cock against Harry’s hip. Harry’s eyes widened and he arched into the contact automatically, whimpering when Louis pulled back.

Louis placed one more reassuring kiss to his lips before deftly shifting back on his knees. When he was straddling Harry’s thighs, he paused and looked at his best friend’s eyes.

“Are you gonna be good for me, Haz?” he asked lowly, trailing his hand up and down Harry’s stomach and feeling the muscles clench underneath.

Harry fish mouthed for a moment before nodding twice.

“And tell me if you want me to stop?” Louis added, hand hovering on the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Harry rasped.

Louis shot him a heated stare before carefully pushing the hem of Harry’s tee shirt up a few inches. Harry watched in awe as he slowly brought his lips to the exposed skin of his stomach. Louis looked up at him through his lashes before nuzzling one sharp hipbone. He pressed a kiss to the spot before trailing his lips across the boy’s abdomen, over the soft curve of his belly. Harry sucked in a breath when he felt Louis’ sharp little teeth nip at the skin below his belly button. He’d never imagined--he’d _hoped_ it would feel this good, but never let himself imagine Louis would ever touch him this way. Louis soothed the bite with a stroke of his tongue, and Harry threw his head back and whined.

Louis took in all the sensations of touching Harry’s body—the warmth of his skin, the sensitive places that made his muscles tense, his clean, familiar scent—as he peeled the shirt higher, up past the boy’s ribs. Instinct told him to yank the shirt off and frantically touch every inch of Harry, but love made him patient.

Harry was breathing shallowly when Louis trailed kisses up his chest. When Louis nipped playfully at the sensitive spot next to Harry’s rib, he gasped out a surprised laugh and twitched. Louis grinned until his eyes crinkled, amazed at how _them_ it was. He was relieved that here, in this new level of intimacy, they were still them—still HarryandLouis.

“Off?” Louis asked, waiting for Harry’s permission to take his shirt the rest of the way off. Harry focused his eyes dazedly on Louis, already looking wrecked. He slowly nodded, never taking his eyes off Louis.

Louis smiled softly at him as he lifted the shirt. Underneath him, Harry arched up to let him pull it over his head. Louis dropped it over the side of the bed before settling back on top of Harry. He brushed a kiss over the boy’s lips and trailed his fingers across the winter white skin of his chest. Harry sighed into his mouth, twining his fingers through Louis’ honey-colored hair. The sensation made Louis shiver.

Louis deepened the kiss, the wet sounds of their lips meeting again and again the only sounds in the quiet room. Harry balled his fists into Louis’ shirt, reminding Louis he was still wearing one. As if reading his mind, Harry pulled off his lips with a soft pop and slid his hands up the back of Louis’ shirt. He explored the smooth, warm skin with his hands. When he tugged at the hemline, Louis got the hint and sat up enough to pull it over his head in one swift motion.

Harry stared. Long enough that Louis self-consciously crossed an arm across his bare stomach. That seemed to snap Harry out of his trance.

“Lou, you’re perfect,” Harry said reverently. He gently circled Louis’ smaller wrist with one hand and cautiously pulled it away from Louis’ body.

“You’re all—you’re all I ever wanted. And you’re perfect,” Harry insisted.

His eyes shone with a fierce determination that Louis could feel the truth of. So he bit his lip and dropped his arms to his sides.

“So pretty,” Harry murmured, trailing gentle fingers up the planes of Louis’ stomach and ribs.

Louis smiled shyly, then dropped his eyes to Harry’s chest. He took in Harry’s four nipples, a thing he’d grown up knowing about Harry, like the green of his eyes or the scar on his chin from falling on the playground in grade three. He’d never let himself think of them in a sexual way before, and now that the pale expanse of Harry’s chest was on display before him, he couldn’t stop staring.

Curious, Louis carefully skimmed his lips across the nipple low on Harry’s right rib. He watched Harry’s eyes for any signs of discomfort as he gently licked, then sucked the little nub into his mouth.

Harry gasped, eyes widening. He imagined Louis could see his heart beating, it was pounding so hard. He watched as Louis trailed his lips higher, to the second extra nipple. He flicked his tongue across it, and Harry’s eyes slid closed in pleasure. These nipples weren’t as fleshy and prominent as Harry’s main two, so Louis kept his touch light and gentle.

With a wicked grin, he kissed up Harry’s chest to the tight little bud above his heart. Louis dropped a kiss there before sucking it into his mouth. Harry whimpered at the sensation. Louis rolled his nipple with his tongue, gently flicking the tip until Harry’s mouth fell open in pleasure.

He felt the familiar sensation coiling low in his belly and his toes curled against the duvet. He tried to warn Louis, but the only sound that came out was a choked moan.

Louis’ eyes fluttered open curiously and he took in the sight of Harry nearing orgasm.

“Did I say you could come, sweetheart?” Louis asked, mouth pulling off Harry’s swollen nipple and eyes full of warning.

“N—no,” Harry moaned at the loss of contact.  

“Now, I’d like to take the rest of the night touching every inch of you, Haz,” he said huskily into Harry’s ear, grinding steadily against his cock. “Maybe I will,” he mused as an afterthought.

“But your mum’s going to be home any minute. So here’s what we’re gonna do,” Louis’ voice tapered off to a whisper. Harry sucked in a ragged breath.

“I’m going to make you come just like this.”

Harry moaned and rolled his hips against Louis’ in response. Louis aligned their cocks in their pants and set up a more deliberate rhythm.

“You feel so good, baby,” he whispered. Louis reached between them and dipped his hand inside Harry’s trackies, cupping him over his pants.

“Can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” Louis continued, scraping his teeth carefully over the delicate shell of Harry’s ear. He got a firm grip on the boy and began stroking him through his pants.

Harry’s head thrashed against the pillow, his moans getting louder. Louis thumbed over the head of his cock through his pants, feeling precome wet the fabric. Harry’s hips jerked at the sensation.

 “Louis, please…”

“You’d want to come so bad, but I’d make you wait. I’d spread you out, just like this, and suck you down as far as I could. I’ve wanted to taste you for so long, Haz.”

Harry was incoherent now, panting, eyes squeezed shut with pleasure. But Louis persisted.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he commanded with a particularly strong tug to Harry’s cock.

It took him a moment, but eventually Harry complied. Louis knew he was close.

“You gonna come for me, Haz? Come in your pants like this?” he asked.

Underneath him, he felt Harry’s body tense as he neared his orgasm. His eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Look at me, baby,” Louis said, increasing his pace. Just as Harry’s hazy eyes met his, Louis dragged the waistband of his pants down enough to free the head of his cock. Never breaking eye contact, Louis thumbed over the wetness there and whispered, “Come.”

Harry gasped at the sensation, and that was it. He was coming in hot spurts over Louis’ hand, back arching off the mattress, narrow hips jerking with pleasure.

“Lou,” he mewled raggedly. Louis stroked him through it until Harry sagged back into the mattress, spent.

He gingerly wiped Harry’s cock, aware of his sensitivity. When Harry blinked back into focus a moment later, Louis held his gaze as he unceremoniously shoved his jeans down enough to free his cock and began stroking quickly, Harry’s own come acting as lube.

Harry moaned a breathy “yeah” as he watched Louis wank faster and faster. Louis felt his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach, toes curling in pleasure. One look at Harry’s wrecked, amazed face, and Louis was coming harder than he’d ever come in his life. His hips stuttered as he rode out his release, gradually coming to a halt and half-collapsing on Harry.

They lay there for a moment, catching their breath, Louis nuzzling against Harry’s collarbone. Harry’s hands came up to stroke up and down Louis’ back. After a long moment, Louis propped his chin on Harry’s chest and looked into his eyes.

“Good?” he asked.

“Perfect,” Harry smiled shyly, green eyes sparkling in the low light.

“Worth the wait?” Louis teased.

“You know it was,” Harry rolled his eyes fondly and poked Louis in the side.

“So Operation: Sex was a success then?” Louis grinned wryly, raising his eyebrows.

Harry cringed and let his head drop back against the pillow.

“I’m going to kill Niall.”

*

After that, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. It was like a switch had been flipped in Louis, and all his previous inhibitions flew out the window.

The first time Louis blew Harry, he cornered him in the photography lab which was (thankfully) deserted. The sight of Louis dropping to his knees nearly had Harry coming on the spot.

“Now, here’s the deal, Haz,” Louis said as he unbuttoned Harry’s jeans. “Just because I want to suck your cock, doesn’t mean you should get behind on your studies.” Louis slid the jeans down to Harry’s thighs and nosed at the erection now tenting his boxers. “So get back to work.”

Harry stared incredulously down at Louis, whose hand was paused on the waistband of Harry’s shorts. Dazed, he went to switch the photo he’d been developing from the chemical tray to the water, and he felt Louis slip his boxers down. He looked down to see Louis’ face inches away from his aching cock.

“Well?”

Louis smiled sweetly until Harry went back to his work. He was grateful for the distraction, because it kept him from coming immediately. But how was he supposed to concentrate on his pictures of inanimate objects when Louis was—Louis was. _God_.

Louis held one hand at the base of his cock while he swirled his tongue around the head, putting more pressure on the sensitive underside. Oh god. Feeling it, but not getting to watch was going to actually kill Harry.

Louis sucked him down until his mouth met his hand, and Harry dropped his head back and moaned. He reached blindly for the tongs to switch his photo to the next tray and fumbled them across the table. His thighs were shaking from the effort to stay upright. Louis bobbed his head, sucking as he went up, and Harry moaned a little louder.

Louis hummed, and the sensation on Harry’s cock made him grip the edges of the table for support.

“L-Lou, I’m gonna,” he said shakily.

Louis popped off with a wet sound. “Gonna what, babe? Gonna come?” he asked, licking slowly up and down the shaft.

_“Lou.”_

“Doing so good baby—mmm—“ Louis said, licking up a drop of precome from the tip. “Come, sweetheart.”

He swallowed Harry down until his tip hit the back of Louis’ throat and _sucked,_ and Harry cried out. He came in Louis’ mouth, calling out his name, who just sucked him through it. Louis licked him clean, then tucked his softening cock back in his pants. Harry wasn’t sure how he was still alive.

He helped Louis to his feet, then crashed his lips against Louis’ in a desperate kiss. He moaned at the taste of himself on Louis’ tongue. Harry went to unbutton Louis’ pants in return, but Louis stopped him with a gentle hand.

“Did you finish your work?” Louis asked in a husky voice. Harry reluctantly shook his head no. Louis tsked and replied, “Then I guess you’ll have to wait.”

Harry never finished a photo assignment so quickly in his life.

*

Harry’s seventeenth birthday was coming up, and this year it fell on movie night. After cake and presents, everyone cleared out of Harry’s living room so the boys could uphold their tradition. (Harry and Louis had compromised on watching _Memento_ , which was supposed to be good.) Harry had insisted on wearing Louis’ faded blue jumper all evening, and now snuggled on the couch, he stretched the fabric down over his too-long arms and curled up at Louis’ side.

Five minutes into the movie, Harry was impossibly lost. Was the man back in time? In the present? Who knew? Also, he might’ve been a little distracted by the way Louis was carding his fingers through Harry’s curls, grown long enough now that he could braid it if he knew how. Did Louis know how to braid? He’d have to ask. He shifted closer, laying his head in the crook of Louis’ shoulder, and sighed.

Louis wasn’t doing much better. What in the world was happening in this movie?! Also, he was going crazy at the sight of Harry’s broad shoulders filling out the now too-small jumper he wore. Harry was all grown up, and Louis was torn between wanting to still cocoon him in blankets for movie night and spread him out across the bed and slowly open him up with his fingers until Harry was a writhing, sobbing mess.

He was feeling a little conflicted. It was just…Harry was his _baby_. And Louis wanted to feed him cookies…and then wreck him.

He chanced a look at Harry, only to find him already staring. “I have no idea what’s going on,” Harry admitted frankly, gesturing towards the TV screen. Louis sighed in relief.

“Me neither,” he laughed.

“Wanna do something else? Since it’s still my birthday and all,” Harry grinned.

“Like what?” Louis asked, smiling wryly. “You want me to cover you in cake and then lick it all off?”

Harry snorted and tried to ignore the way his cock twitched in interest. “Nah, we’ll do that for your birthday, Lou.”

“Ok, what then?” Louis replied, stretching his arms above his head on a silent yawn.

“Bed?” Harry guessed, taking in Louis’ tired expression.

“Harold! Purely for sleeping purposes, I assume? No funny business, right?” he grinned.

“Of course! Sleeping,” Harry promised with a wicked smile.

“Well, in that case we can do that here,” Louis winked, moving as if to lie down on the couch.

“No!” Harry protested loudly. Louis shushed him, and Harry continued in a soft whisper, “No. I want…want you to fuck me,” his cheeks flushing bright red at his own boldness.

He watched Louis’ jaw drop and eyes glaze over for a moment before snapping back to reality.

“Harry…are you sure? I mean—“

“Yes, I’m sure! I just…really want you. I’m ready. But only if you are,” Harry conceded, biting his lip.

Louis didn’t speak for a moment, staring intently into Harry’s eyes. He must’ve found what he was looking for there, because the next moment he issued a single, simple command:

“Upstairs. Now.”

Harry clicked the TV off and stood, Louis right behind him. He reached for Louis’ hand, then walked up the stairs to his bedroom. Once in his room with the door firmly locked, Harry spun to see Louis still standing by the door, arms crossed and watching him with an unreadable expression. Finally, he spoke.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth, Harry.” He crossed the room to stand right in front of the other boy, now having to look up a little since Harry had grown. Harry went to pull the jumper over his head, but Louis stopped him with a gentle hand to his arm.

“Leave it.”

Instead, Louis moved to slide the sweats down Harry’s hips and claimed his mouth in a kiss. He sucked a soft kiss from Harry’s plump lips, then slid his boxers down his legs as well. Leaving harry standing there in nothing but Louis’ stretched out blue sweater.

“Walking around in my jumper, looking like that…asking me to fuck you. Who do you think you are?” he whispered with a trace of amusement.

“Yours,” Harry replied with a nervous gulp of his Adam’s apple.

“Mine,” Louis confirmed, trailing his hands across Harry’s chest and hips, completely bypassing his hard cock.

“Mine,” he repeated, brushing a kiss across Harry’s lips. “Mine,” he murmured, gripping Harry’s cock loosely for a few strokes. Harry gasped into the kiss and laced his fingers with Louis’ other hand before bringing it up to his chest.

Harry placed Louis’ hand over his heart and huffed “yours” into Louis’ mouth.

“Mine,” Louis said, breaking away to stare at Harry with soft eyes as he felt the other boy’s heart beating under his hand. He placed one more lingering kiss to Harry’s swollen lips before placing Harry’s hand over Louis’ heart. “And this is yours,” Louis rasped.

“Mine,” Harry smiled shyly. He let himself be led over to the bed and laid down on the faded duvet. Louis caged him in on all fours with a warm smile, nuzzling against the side of Harry’s face. He inched the sweater up Harry’s chest, but didn’t remove it. Then without warning, he sucked Harry down in one smooth motion. He only stopped when Harry’s cock hit the back of his throat.

Harry let out a broken whimper at the feeling of Louis’ hot mouth surrounding him. He threaded his hands in Louis’ hair, not to push him, but just to anchor himself. Louis pulled off to gently spread Harry’s legs, exposing him, before returning to sucking. When Harry was panting heavily and moaning into his pillow, Louis reached out blindly for the nightstand and pulled a bottle of lube out of the drawer.

“Fingers,” Harry begged, spreading his thighs further.

 “Not yet,” Louis soothed. He dropped down on his stomach between Harry’s legs and spread him even more. Then he gave a tentative lick across Harry’s hole. He soon added a lube-slick finger alongside his tongue. It punched a gasp out of Harry when he felt the pressure.

 Only after Louis added a second finger and then a third, stretching him slowly, did he remove his fingers and slick up his cock.

“Haz, you want to be on your front or back?” Louis asked.

“B-Back,” Harry replied shakily. “I wanna see you.”

Louis smiled softly and kissed him. A moment later, he aligned himself at Harry’s entrance and slowly pushed in. Harry threw his head back and keened at the pressure.

“Breathe, baby,” Louis said, halting the movement of his hips. He waited until Harry relaxed beneath him, and then pushed deeper. Louis’ vision whited out a little at the tightness of Harry’s body clenching around him. At this rate, he worried _he_ wouldn’t be able to last.

 “Ok?” Louis asked, and Harry’s glazed eyes met his. Louis moaned at the sight; Harry looked completely wrecked, his cheeks flushed pink, lips bitten red and curls dampened with sweat.

Harry could only nod as his eyes fluttered closed. He meant to be more patient, but couldn’t hold back anymore. He slowly withdrew a little, only to slowly push back in. Harry’s breath hitched at the sensation, and he rolled his hips up for more. Louis set up a steady rhythm, rocking slowly into Harry. He knew he’d hit a sensitive spot when Harry slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a cry.

Louis pushed as deep as he could go and then started to grind on that spot, over and over. He was getting close, and if the way Harry’s thighs were shaking and his muscles tightening was anything to go by, so was he.

Louis braced one hand beside Harry’s head for leverage and reached between them to grasp his cock. Harry whimpered and tossed his head back and forth on the pillow at the stimulation. He was almost there…he just needed…

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” Louis panted next to his ear. “My good boy. Are you going to come, baby?”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a low whine. Almost…

“I hope you’re taking notes, love,” Louis whispered hotly in his ear, “because next time we’re gonna switch. I want this big cock filling me up.”

Harry’s eyes flew open and he released a choked sob.

“Yeah, Haz? You wanna fuck me?” Louis asked, feeling Harry tighten around him as he got closer.

“Look at me, Haz,” he ordered softly, stroking Harry’s cock faster now. When Harry’s eyes met his, he smiled softly. “I love you, baby.” And there. There it was.

Harry’s body tightened like a bowstring, back arching as he came into Louis’ fist. Louis thrust one, two, three more times and then he was coming inside Harry, hips jerking as he rode it out.

Harry wrapped shaky arms and legs around Louis as he pulled out gingerly. Louis finally collapsed on top of Harry, chest heaving as he came down. He buried his face in Harry’s sweaty curls, inhaling his familiar scent. _Harry. His baby. Home_ , he thought drowsily. He had just enough energy to grab some tissues from the nightstand and clean them up before falling asleep. He guided Harry onto his side and curled around him, chest pressed to the boy’s back.

Harry appeared to be already sleeping. Louis pulled the rumpled duvet up to their shoulders and pressed a kiss into Harry’s hair. Just before he drifted off, he heard Harry mumble, “Lou?”

“Yeah, love?” Louis whispered.

“I love you, too,” Harry replied, lacing his fingers with Louis’ on his chest, right above his heart. Louis smiled into Harry’s hair and pulled him closer. _Better enjoy it now_ , he thought fondly.

Harry was his baby, but he was growing up. And for the first time, Louis was ready for that.  

*

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr! http://1diamondinthesun.tumblr.com/


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